Workweek Headline

I can bear the cold stupidity of rush-hour traffic,
endure mindless rage from embattled commuters.

I can take orders from crackpots and charlatans,
suffer the drudgery of office politics
and the bruising march to another payday.

I can do that, I tell you.  And I can face the terror
of the ordinary citizen and his ordinary ways.
Have I not withstood it these many years?

If it's not too much to ask, my Darling,
would you kindly acquit a few dirty dishes
left in the sink, loose change in the laundry,
forgetting to report that your mother dropped by?

Because I am s-t-a-r-v-e-d for a tender, 

graceful touch, My Love, else this tinderbox of a story

could ignite in a desperate and calamitous folly:

MAN GOES BERSERK. SHOOTS TWENTY
IN OFFICE BUILDING. WIFE BITTER
HE LEFT THE TOILET SEAT UP.

**First published in Pearl literary magazine

Sick Day

Washed into the shallows
of an uptown bar,
drifting in and out
of the daily news,
coming up only to
tip the glass or
the ruby-lipped waitress.  

Outside, faceless sharks
in slippery attire
maneuver between
bento-box lunches
and the office cubicle.

This is as much as

I will attempt today:

       feigning illness

       for a few deep breaths

       above the waterline.

Christ, they will drag you under

if you surrender to it.

Poor Bernard,

just last week suffered

a coronary at his station.

Colleagues passed him by

for hours presuming

an afternoon nap.

Helen is on life support

after a traffic accident

driving home

from her retirement party.

They were feeder fish,

treading the current

until Big Pharma

and a tide of medical bills

swallowed them whole.

Not me.

I am throwing back pints mid-day

crafting another exit strategy

that will evaporate with the alcohol.

This one involves a holy book

authored under mysterious circumstances,

a cryptic luminary

with blinding charisma

and undiagnosed sociopathy,

tax exempt status,

a call center in India

that provides spiritual counseling

to the downtrodden.

For a modest donation

you too

can experience 

a wave of miracles.

**First published in Ink Nest Poetry magazine