Workweek Headline

I can bear the dead-eyed 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?

So, if it's not too much to ask, my Darling,

would you kindly acquit me

of a few dirty dishes in the sink,

loose change in the laundry,
forgetting to report

that your mother dropped by?

Grant me some tenderness,

lest these accumulated grievances

ignite some calamitous folly:

        MAN GOES BERSERK.

        SHOOTS TWENTY IN OFFICE BUILDING.

        WIFE STILL ANGRY
        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 corporate 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'll drag you under

if you surrender to it.

Poor Bernard, last week 

suffered a coronary at his station.

Colleagues stepped past him for hours 

presuming an afternoon nap.

Helen survived twenty-nine years

at the company,

then died in a traffic accident

driving home from her retirement party.

They were feeder fish,

swimming the same current

until a tide of misfortune

left them flapping on the shore.

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

in your life.

**First published in Ink Nest Poetry magazine