July 30, 2012


I used to get up at the crack of dawn
and do a tap dance
On the street the men were loading crates
or emptying garbage barrels
and I’d saunter along
with a song in my heart
voicing to the pavement
when no one could hear
I was shy

Sleep is interrupted these days
a cat jumps to my back
eager for attention
The radio never is on
to keep hell out
which it filters in when I drive
expecting music
or renouncing it

I’m not a slave
Though it’s noon and I slough along
as if time were infinite
That’s my gift to the god of waste
It’s my freedom
I even complain

Meanwhile, over there, I know
starvation proceeds
that Killer is King
that Nightmare is no longer a word
in the language..that it’s only background
the wall paper of existence
where some of us eat