winter or our discontent

ethan hawley once had a woman named mary. they lived in some white, middle-class east coast community. he worked as a grocery store clerk as i once did, facing cans and jars, creating a mosaique upon the shelves. im beginning to see the similarities in our existence though steinbecks characters may not have ever existed.
my mary likes to fly off the handle with reckless abandon, fits of crying and childish balking. it reminds me of the bugling elk i can hear outside our door, upon the iced-over deck overlooking the refuge. we also live in a ruralburban community with a dominance of 'haves' versus the 'have-nots' that brings to mind one of dave barrys editorials a few years back in the miami herald. the haves know nasdaq and the have-nots eat yak. i believe that was the title.
for the past week ive found little rest in the sleep that connects my evening and morning. the feeling of marriage has been bearing down as a burden. this is what it feels like to have the common notions and complaints of communal domesticity. the inability to communicate and the sneaking suspicion that your partner is mad. im also finding similar arguments that fit an anomolous cliche of husband and wife.
i long for the grocery store aisles where i may preach to those that hear, but do not answer.