poem of the day 08.10.09

argument

sit in the backseat
for 7 ½ hours
while they argue
and i just don’t get it
i can’t find that much
to argue about
and i love to argue
so i sit there
and dream of london
while they fight
over their new house
and answering the phone
the way he swears at drivers
who cut him off
how fast he’s going
how slow she drives
i sit in the back
and dream of cans of beer
of shots of scotch
and herman melville
cursing myself
for being too cheap
to take a plane
while they prattle
on about taxes
and paying healthcare costs
for the poor
and their neighbors
or who forgot to take out the trash
who’s going to shovel snow
once the new house is built
as i sit in the back
and think, christ, it’s only july
hot ugly july
that never seems to end
in the backseat of this car
going eighty-five miles per hour
through the state of pennsylvania
with nothing in my belly
but car exhaust
and suicidal thoughts
as they start in on each other again
over who’s under more pressure
at their job.