poem of the day 08.26.11

days like this

the soda delivery man
on fifth avenue
counts a wad of money
tells the arab bodega merchant
that he can’t do it anymore
that it’s not worth it to him
the merchant just stares at him
his face darkening
murder in his eyes
and you wonder what kind of deal
they had

the streets offer no clemency
on days like this
where the summer kids
keep screaming for ice cream cones
and video games
while the old chinese women
sort through garbage
as another summer dies

the streets offer no soft touch
as we head to our fates
some of us in luxury cars
some of us packed on buses
like cows going to the slaughter
others of us going off to serve
hamburgers and french fries
to the fattening swarm
while the rest take up their places
on bar stools and benches
lost men and women
shouting into cell phones
to people on the other end
who truly do not care

it has gotten so that you cannot
choose your own destiny

it has gotten so that the only ones
chasing the dream
are the madmen and the deluded

so bad that the soda man
has taken a kickback

and when you pass the ups man
on the next block

red faced
in his little brown uniform

packages torn and scattered along
the busy and broken street

and he looks up at you and says
buddy, days like this, right?

be sure to nod
and try to understand this man
with a crystal essence

because on days like this
he’s the closest thing you have
to a guru, a god, or any other kind
of benevolent deity.