poem of the day 06.16.11

father’s day cards

thirty-seven
awash in mediocrity

pen to paper
fingers to keys

the cold cup of coffee
at my side
denoting another morning
with the proverbial thumb
up my ass

playacting poet

i think about the suburban house
that could’ve been

the college loans paid off
cold beer in the summer sun
admiring a lawn kept green and sharp

thirty-seven
i check the piled up
wine bottles for something tangible

read the rows of rejections
in my email
searching for enlightenment

i think of two cars
in a well-paved driveway
and barbeques with neighbors
who don’t make me sick

good clothes
and a gym club membership

thirty-seven
killing the bugs
on the old scotch glasses for sport

sweeping up the roaches
to keep the arms lean

looking at bookshelves
full of useless gurus
who have nothing left to give me
but indigestion

for they are worn out
as i am worn out

thirty-seven

i think about the good jobs
that never came my way
the years of toil and restraint

good jobs like fantasies
like mind-numbing deliverance

all for a stack of unwanted scribbles
this forever tiredness of the mind
and a sore back from a hardwood chair
that knows no mercy

thirty-seven
checking the soles of my shoes
bracing myself for the downgrade

thirty-seven
like a pension that i’ll never see

thirty-seven with a bullet

to the head

awash in mediocrity
on another warm day in june

soliciting the mailbox
for pipe dreams, chapbooks
menus and bills

and in my head
counting all of the father’s day cards
that i’m never going to get.