tomorrow
by rcribay
i step into the wild,
leaving my car at the entrance.
no more golden arches.
despite having the best time,
i find a strange ambivalence
thinking about the cost,
not to myself,
no, but to the onlookers,
the waiters and waitresses,
the bellboys and barkeeps,
the deckhands and drivers,
watching me drop in a weekend,,
casually and with unmistakeable style,
the earnings of their entire
month?
quarter?
year?
thinking about what they could do
if only they had the
luck,
chance,
fortune
of a middle-class American.
these feelings
of things crawling
on me fighting
the burn of
sunlighting on me
smells just like aloe
a moist awkward fellow
people refuse to be
looking at me
and he followed her
all the way to death,
coming in the form of a
bite sized fish,
cast from a stick
into the swirling ocean,
looking too good to pass up
despite the imminent death
of his wife (or perhaps girlfriend),
hooked through the jaw
and then through the gut,
to be tossed on the boat,
taking his last vengeance
by bloodying my shorts.
