Malcontent
I've always been a little out of sorts, the golden only child
Who found himself an also-ran, the engineer's dull-witted
Boy who couldn't learn geometry, the kid who peed his
Pants in class, and had to hear about it from his classmates
For the next nine years. A cipher in the cruel city, union
Member almost until he'd attained seniority, cabbie, ever
Abject son, who'd slink home, tail between his legs, each
Time his income went away. I should be over all that now.
I have a home and money. My dad's dead. My ignorance
Of math means nothing to those who are living. Amid my
Engaging children and their children, and excessive heaps
Of things I've come to own, I don't know why I'm out
Of sorts, but, somehow, I still am.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck

Read 57 times
Written on 2025-07-21 at 01:32




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