poem of the day 03.11.09

okay, after a brief foray into drunken ginsbergian verse, back to the archives.

neruda never did this

sunday
looking for a job
in the buffalo news
but there are no jobs
there are only miseries
and dead ends:

a temp job
a schlep job in a lobby
another slave office job,
monday thru friday
no weekends
no evenings

better than what I have now?

ally says, “you know you don’t
want to work at all.”
“that’s true,” i answer.
“then why not quit?”
“i can’t.”
“you always have to be so upstanding.
anyway i’m glad you faked sick
and came home early yesterday.”
“me too.”
“what should we do?”

we do nothing
but sit on the couch and watch
movies
and drink wine
and eat.
the cats lay on us.
the baseball playoffs are on.
life is happening.
and i use the want ads
to clean a puddle of
spilt milk.

10.10.05