Friday Poetry Break

I have been going through some of my pieces recently, tweaking and revising some poetry, wondering about reviving work on a story or two I may have laid aside a while ago. Came across this poem I wrote - oh - a while ago - two-three years? Back in the days when I waited for the #10 for an hour each evening because they NEVER run on time. This was a familiar sight:



Anyway, ran across this poem and thought I would share it. I don't feel like this as much as I used to, but sometimes I still go there.

Liposuction in the City of Lost Dreams or
Beer on a Budget

Scalpel poised above –
emergency operation gots to be done!
STAT! ASAP!
I mean RIGHT NOW!
(How I hate those words.)
Infusion of hope prescribed ---
excision from this dreariness.
Soul sucking demands on a
dream-ridden, aged princess.

Credit? Cash? Coverage?
Give’r an aspirin and a bandage.
Maybe a beer ….
Maybe one or two –
A patch of anesthesia to see her through.
This is no great affliction.

And then?
Huge metal deathmonsters?
Prime property acquisition?
Class conscious status symbols
slapped on a gaping wound.

Addictive elitism stumbles on her crutches.
Ancient and treacherous,
near impossible to escape her clutches.
Staying afloat – don’t want to drown.
This is a bright and brittle
One-trick pony kind of town.

Life-rings are limited
to the wealthy and connected.
The rest --
are bound to be rejected.

Beer --
It will have to be beer.

Beer it is then.

by Rachel V. Olivier