a day like any other

began waiting help less in in in in pajamas and stubble
for eleven going on twenty one
to complete her preenings

be hind the locked door
to a shower that sputtered
luke warm and life less
while soaping and shivering

on the cold floor
with the only towel wet
and crumpled on the icy tiles
slippery with drippings

his aging, swollen
wife left a long with words
of disgust and complaint
and routine demands of more

money and more
time with the kids who
can tell dad to fuck-off
in a hundred different ways

while they gobble
count less hours of clock time
banked at the office
with out thought or pause

of how long it takes
to get there in the traffic
and stay there
for ninety-five thousand hours

of watching the sun rise
and set through windows
and wind-shields
and breathing the poisoned air

that he endures for
irretrievable hours of life time
waiting at on ramps
and stop lights

to inch to ward his daily
hopes strangled long ago
by mediocrity
and a miss fit super-visor

who sucks in youth
from every desk
and breathes out despair
and pallor for them

to carry along
and infect their families
and continue the spiral
of lustre less eyes

and held tongue,
of sweating fist
and racing heart
nearing its end

with out a second thought
the cop wrote an other ticket
on his chest
and the car wouldn’t start

to ease out because
no-one would make room
just enough to get home
to the coffin he left early

today his mind melted
and instead of swallowing it
he shot the guy
who cut him off in traffic.

© 1996 Pat Hahn

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