The Love Poem Which Wasn't Written

“Not a lot of romance here,” I muse
As I answer endless questions in order
To get an insurance quote. Insurance
Is such a distasteful business. The dull,
Suited person across the table smiles
With an adder's lack of warmth. He
And the monolith standing behind him
Are betting that they can gouge me
Sufficiently to make a buck, even if
They must pay for my house burning
Down or my heart giving out. When
We're done, I wring his cool, damp
Hand, and leave, not very satisfied
In knowing that my joyless life, and my
Possessions are “protected” to what
Suitable degrees my mortgage lender
And my wife deem adequate, and I
Go home to stare, defeated, at my
Keyboard, wishing I could write
A poem, but I can't. The romance
Isn't there.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 36 times
Written on 2021-02-19 at 01:10

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