…was imagining the letters I send being opened, read ….
…like that letters take time, even a week ….
Then, the drunk walks up beside me.
“My mother’ll be pissed.
“I’m her caregiver, understand?
“I slipped out of the house near midnight,
“Went to friends’ to party, drinking, a lot of beer.
“Here it is near six in the morning,
“Good I’m not driving,
“Got to get back,
“She’ll be pissed.
“She’ll wake me after I’ve slept only an hour.
“Got two trees to trim.”
Into the pasty dawn he walks.
I turn off.
A banker drives up, and says,
“A good system for us, banks.
“We make bad loans,
“Then, we get bailed out.
“A regular person is out of luck when losing money.
A skinny man in shorts steps near,
Machete in hand,
Ropes on shoulder,
Another tree trimmer.
“Bees, ants, scorpions, spiders,
“All have bitten me.”
So skinny, so thin,
Like the machete blade,
Like the ropes ….
Sweat , many forms it has.
Eugene “Gene” Novogrodsky, mid-May 2015