Tuesday, May 14, 2013

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.


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