The Problem with Being Me

This iteration of here and now is nice.
There's no denying that. The air, a little
Cool, is calm. The clouds, though gray,
Have passed the sun. A piece of farm
Equipment whines somewhere below,
Behind the trees, and I, behind a gin
And tonic, sit, untaxed, alone, a man
Of unearned leisure, writing verse.
The view across the fields and thickets
Soothes me. It would anyone, so why
Do I not feel sedated? Why am I on
Edge, as if some goons the oligarchs
Employ were perched upon my porch
Demanding that I usher them inside?
There are no goons. The oligarchs,
So ripe in their malevolence, have
Added amply to my purse. Perhaps,
I'm just a malcontent, And what is
Here and now is never good enough
For me.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2021-05-07 at 02:28

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