she says

She says she does it for the money
I want to tell her that I don’t think that’s true
She smiles at me and before I even have a chance to speak
She tells me life sometimes, really is that simple.
Sometimes there is no deeper meaning, no underlying motivation, no sliver of life to be investigated, analysed and reconstructed
I don’t know what to say,
Life is supposed to be complicated,
There are supposed to be reasons, explanations and hidden meanings
You’re supposed to work at trying to find the key, and once you do, you move on to the next closed door, that’s just waiting to be opened
She looks at me and shrugs,
A gesture so dismissive, I don’t even know how to respond
She tells me I’d simply like to believe that’s true
But when she performs, she tells me it really is just about the money,
Not some invisible insecurity,
But money, green, thick wads of it that she can tuck away and use up before that inevitable rainy day
I shake my head and try to start a fresh argument
One that would satisfy my psych professor,
But she cuts me off, deliberately and forcefully
And one last time
She says she does it for the money
And I want to know if I could do that too