HOW I'M JUST WAITING
And with a ho-hum at that. I tire,
defenseless as a rabbit that has lost
its speed. Perhaps I yawn, also, too
open-mouthed for any polite company.
How does it go that the 'man with
money' has the life? I'd never know.
-
Poverty plays tricks with density.
Making everything a solid, brick wall.
Unable to pass through, unable to enter.
-
I want to fly somewhere, far away,
but I haven't the money to bark or say,
where, when, how. I want to publish
five thousand fresh pages, bound
and collected to make my name.
But I've got no denari to play that
game. How I'm just waiting:
-
This life is so plain.
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