Friday, January 25, 2013

poem of the day 01.25.13


watchband

i watch this lunatic kid
pace the windblown street

i check my watch
and see that the watchband is broken

this cheap leather
that i bought less than a year ago

frayed and torn
dangling

and the lady next to me bitches
about the lunatic kid

the time
the weather

it could be thirteen degrees out
or ninety-five

and she’d still be bitching

people are dissatisfied about the wrong things

like television or restaurant meals
the weather and other people

i am dissatisfied with this watchband and my job
bits and pieces of the last so many years

aspects of my childhood

but i can do nothing about those things

i am powerless in the grand expanse of time

it is clich├ęd but i must tick on
as i watch this lunatic kid pace about

as the woman complains about how cold she is
asking everyone but me the time

as a pink faced child
cries to his freezing mother

and the cars make orange smears of light
in the icy atmosphere

our little sect of humanity
burdened and hateful

trying our best to get home
on another thursday evening

where any kind of warmth and unity
amongst this selfish tribe

seems
as tiring a responsibility

as picking out a new watchband
this weekend

only to strap it on
my waiting, hairy wrist.

                                                

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