pocket change again
broke
as broke as america wants me to be
these bars
these damned clubs robbing me blind
for a little bit of clarity
but we skip class anyway
pocket change again
i’m a bleary broke follower
kris has all of the answers in his smirk
to bookstores
down used cd alleyways
cups of coffee in the beehive
that burn our flesh as we walk rickety steps
but we won’t sue
though i could use the cash
it’s good to not be on the campus
it’s taken our soul and our money
left only questions and desolation
i have debt i haven’t even realized yet
kris says he’s moving in with angie
once we graduate
from these environs
this student loan subsidized respite
from the countless women i can’t stop chasing
like a low bent groucho marx
cigarette in my mouth on the cathedral of learning’s lawn
when i’m not chasing them drunk
on friday saturday nights
can i graduate from this life too?
he says, maybe you could move in
an instant vision of poems
of novels
of coffee and soft music
but i’d just be infiltrating a young love nest
also and give my mother nothing to worry about
when i’m stumbling in drunk somewhere else?
but there is d.c. to consider
colby and whatever dilapidated hell he’s discovered
calvin wants to get a place
but his mother still cuts the crust off of his pb&j
i’m so west so i’m west
go west young man
like kerouac
but i’m so broke
i shouldn’t even be discussing moving out
so we discuss the world instead
the hours pass
somewhere in whatever class it was we skipped
someone has made a point
someone else has refuted it
student loan subsidized intellectuals
soon we’ll all have jobs
that’ll make us as sad as our parents
and everyone else
one grand nationwide parity in pursuit of the dream
this afternoon could last forever
afternoons only last in poems
and kris
and me
we parted company
so soon
you see
i walked the cold
pittsburgh streets
alone
again.
No comments:
Post a Comment