a bait shop in the city

something stupid to kill the time.

how freeing an F would be!

marked in big red sharpie

over a paper I labored

like Hephestus on each

finely crafted ligthening bolt.

to say, "well, i tried"

as i closed the limited edition

leather cover on this chapter,

and reached back into my satchel

of dime store paperbacks.

to be free of thick thighed asian chicks,

and lesbians wearing Buddy Holly glasses.

free to tear off Taurus' f*****g horns

and shove them up his tight a*s!

ah, to wear a blue apron

stocking paper towels

on a colossal layer of shelves.

"yes ma'am, green beans

are on aisle 8,

make sure you have

a fantastic day!"

to prance home at sundown

where a lumpy green recliner

covered in cheese dust and crumbs

awaits the warmth of my butt,

and the glow of a flickering screen

is all the companionship i need.

not so much a king,

but a god among all of those

stacked away in blue cubicles

plotting numbers into charts

of how charts are ineffective

in showing the significance of the numbers.

Uncle Sam's woke up from his crazy dream.

keep your house and car,

and give me a one bedroom apartment

with a parking lot view.