Wednesday, March 31, 2010


If you don't understand the rules, say so.
If you can't stand the waiting, please don't wait.
If you discover yourself in a state
Of anguish and despair, look down below
Where you'll see scads of people in a row
Who understand much less than you, and hate
Their undeserved condition, and curse fate,
Believing you're the one who's in the know.

Of course, I'm not suggesting you're aware
Of anything that might be useful here,
Since, frankly, nothing could be much more clear
Than your unfettered ignorance, from hair
To toenails, with some aimlessness to spare,
And reckless haplessness, from ear to ear.

Saturday, March 20, 2010


I simply couldn't eat another bite,
That's all I whispered to the maitre d'
When he approached and tried to hector me
About the menu and my appetite,
Too tiny to appease him, and in spite
He claimed that I had ordered the split pea
And not the onion soup, which, you must see,
Was neither gentlemanly nor polite.

So now that I have noted on the bill
My strong objection, and the manager
Can see how staff has only lied to her,
Perhaps this outlaw waiter will keep still,
And you can let the change sit in the till
As if it were a tip, as I'd prefer.

Saturday, March 06, 2010

My Nerves

My nerves are shot. This savage, makeshift ride
Has undermined my confidence at last:
I've given up my dream, of something vast
And wonderful found on the underside
Of forest underbrush, identified
By experts as a template of the past,
Written in ferns and branches. I held fast
Too long to this. Ambition has now died.

Hope makes me shake, but no, I'm not afraid —
Because I have no hope, I have no fear,
No past. I'm living in the present here,
Waiting for slow death in a forest glade.
I've been outwitted, outmanoeuvred, played.
My nerves are shot. Things will be worse next year.