Coming soon
The lack of confidence
The loss of a job
The cascade of well intended advice
You are not alone, they say
But you are
* * *
Who to ponder
Where to go from here
A plain gesture
A three-hour commute
One final bus ride
Somewhere to call home
Late at night
Dim futility
Neither concern nor misappropriation
Who asked for a lawyer, anyway
Make me your reclaimed waste
Pour me into yet another cycle
I’ll be thankful in advance
With greasy gratitude
To the worn-out heiress
Waxed, trimmed
A chick pea in boiling black waters
Problems
Problems piling up
Debt surging
Hopeless and bankrupt
With a lesser eye
Frequent flyer mileage
And the pains of having everyone expect so much
Roll your call
You have seen nothing yet
Don’t you dare bet on this
* * *
So how are you supposed to feel
When everybody’s doing something about their lives
Everybody has a job
Except you
Filthy
Lame
Good for nothing
On tape
A blank stare
* * *
My soul is dead
But I’m still living
And longing
* * *
Careful what you wish for
As usual he got more than he bargained for
Someone please
Chop off my neck
Gloom rhymes with doom
The prophet of alphanumeric keyboards
And bad credit scores
Damaged goods, as in a now useless umbrella
A second hand trench coat
Lumps
The kid in you reads as
The failed adult that you are
The captain of losers
Leveling the playground
This shouldn’t be happening to you
This is not what you were raised for
Please insert coin
Beg us all please
To insert a coin
A not-so-happy incident
Flying away
A parade
No parachute
Hence, nothing
jeff simmons (Providence, RI, 1978)
