poem of the day 09.22.10

Working on a lot of fiction, so the poems are in short
supply. So here's a poem from almost one year ago....funny
how things don't change in a year.

taking out the trash

in the elevator
with one woman
and two men
on cell phones
the small box
smells like a french
whorehouse
one bag of cat shit
in my hand
the other bag
full of rotten vegetables
and rancid meat
½ a bottle of scotch in me
an old t-shirt
with blood and sweat and wine
stained on it
shorts ripped all over
and falling down
feet naked and dirty
from my hardwood floor
a week-old beard
and they look at me
like i’m the madman
crowding their space.
they’ve never suffered.
obviously
they’ve never lived
a day in their lives
as well.

09.16.09