thursday night driving
by the poetry spot
and it is closed
this said
once again
is
the great
depression
of winter
no one
wants to
be out
no store
wants to
wait up late
instead I
bought
orange juice
said goodbye
to our old
housemate who
is moving out
read a bit
went to bed
it is friday there
are things
unsaid
little tensions
I know I have
very little
to do with
any of it
if they officially
question me
they will
get a
mouthful
I’m abundant
with ideas
as to why
things are so
screwed up here
anyone with eyes
can see
john has
poetry slams and
what not set up
left and right
he eats sleeps
drinks the slams
I guess
I don’t know
what I want
to do with myself
many of
us are just looking
for a direction
to set off in
. . .
handrails
guidance
I hate when I
lay down and
dream of
this place
these people
here
are they asking
me to be
stupid with
them?
I need to
move on
escape this
escape yet
another thing
if there were
something worthy
I could embark
upon and
would be secure
I’d like to find it
I’d be out of here
so fast
this system is set up
to make you think
you are free
having just
2 choices
does not
make you free
like –
“work, or don’t”
that’s like
live or die
work here or
look for work
elsewhere
be miserable here
or be
miserable there
so many
choices right?
enslaved
thinking
we are free
land of
the free
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