La Rev

Really, though, I need to get a job.
And I will, it’s just a matter of time.
Rev’s got some headhunter
I’m supposed to call,
name Willie or Billy or something.
I don’t even wanna know.
I don’t know if I can take
many more days like today: 8a-4p in
front of the computer. All this searching, writing,
sending has to lead to something.

So now I’m sitting in my La-z-Boy recliner,
writing and drinking; the fan is blowing on me—
all I’ll read anymore is declared fiction; the
rest is just bullshit and subjective propaganda—
I’m in the denim-colored boxes that Rev
bought for me (though I reimbursed her) and
also I’m wearing sky blue sox from the Gap
and reading glasses and I’m a little warm and
I could use a shave and I’m g-d dehydrated—
after just one stiff drink / I’m pathetic about that—
so I’ll go out and see if I can’t scrounge up
some water /

Actually, truth be told,
I kind of feel like smoking...
But that would be dumb/
at least I’m not hungry.



Next:  Self

This entry posted by J Rand : 10:55 AM