poem of the day 05.14.13

international man of mystery

i always want to be the better me

the guy who handles shit and get things done

but here i am in a hotel room in salzburg

flipping out because my bank card didn’t work

it was a minor glitch

the ticket officer told us back in vienna

happens all the time, he said with a smile

but there’s my wife calling america

to try and placate me

because i’m pacing and threatening

to not leave the hotel room

to go back to america come hell or high water

and even though she’s shown me the account on the ipad

at least four times

i never believe what i see

in my mind there’s always some international plot

to corrupt the bank account

to ruin our lives when we’re weak and away

this can also happen when i’m buying tickets

or paying for a meal with a debit card

when i’m standing in line at the grocery

or buying shit online

when i travel to europe and my card won’t swipe

or when i leave for work

and have to lock and relock

the living room windows fifteen times

do you think you’re some kind of

international man of mystery or something? my wife asks

but i don’t say anything

just continue pacing and rubbing my face

as if our whole operation were crashing down

because some ticket machine in vienna

was on the fritz

the walls in this room in salzburg closing in

my stomach growling

my wife’s stomach growling

because we haven’t eaten in almost ten hours

and while she continues to try and reach america by phone

i check outside the hotel window

america’s greatest spy

watching every shrouded face on richard mayr gasse

every car that idles

anyone who walks a tad bit funny

laughs the wrong way

or lingers around the star hotel a little too long.