Been out and about
dodging the to do list.
I just don’t have time for it—
not when I’m writing poems
or reading my Bukowski novel.
It finally catches up with me
ain’t nothing free in this world.
I have to sign my insurance papers,
try to figure out my school loan.
It’s a nightmare all of it.
Life can be brutal, but then
I think to myself at least I’m not
humping a pack in Iraq,
at least I don’t have some jihadi
trying to zero in his scope on my
heart, center mass.
Until my wife asks me to take the kids
out to get some tacos and play at the
indoor playground, I wince, I sigh,
I grab my keys and start my car.
Get in, lets go
Here I sit by myself,
take my credit card—get what you want,
I tell my boys.
I write it all down, they hand me the receipt
scarf their food down, and run towards the
playground. They live a charmed life I muse,
as I watch them play tag.