Trade Show Blues

Symptoms of inchoate dissatisfaction appear.
I'm no longer glad to have come. A barn is a barn,
Whether filled up with livestock or humans,
And this display hall is a barn. The patter
Of capitalists leaves me cold. Their gadgets
Seem useless. My time, which no one but I
Believes has any value, is precious in contrast
To this. It's raining outside. Why wouldn't it be?
I push through the entryway doors, nonetheless,
And trudge toward a cocktail lounge, head
Getting wet, the most immediate cause of my
Dissatisfaction becoming quite clear.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 49 times
Written on 2017-11-13 at 17:36

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