OUT OF ORDER

Waiting my turn is chafing yet okay

so long as everyone else plays by the rules.

But when the mindless second clerk

sets up and announces loudly "next",

so that all order breaks down and the

Johnny-Come-Lately at the back of the

line rushes to be first at the second

register, I really get pissed and,

unlike my father, who made no fuss

and took the bad with the good,

I start to bitch and now

I'm the bad guy.

My Pen

My pen is like
a shovel
that digs deep
in my psyche
even as it disturbs
the ground beneathe
and lowers me to
places I care not go

new poet on the horizon. Keep posted.