soup

he starts his first temp job today,
bringing a book
about aging rock stars
and the great gatsby.

his teeth aren’t
coffee-stained yet,
but, it’s okay,
they will be.

he has a sports team,
but not a sports jacket.
his co-workers talk about it,
but they don’t GET it.

he’s a telemarketer,
but it’s okay.
he’s also an optimist-
one who sees the wave crest
but never trough.
the bus stops there,
so he’s getting off.

he’s balding now–
denied it at first,
but there’s no denying it now.
it was a long time coming

and how!

“you get it from
your mother’s side,” they said,
and his mom was a pinhead,
waiting for the bowling ball she’d wed.

“it’s okay,” he said.
“there’s always been a bright side:
i spent too much time in my youth
brushing it like the tide, anyway,
hours every day,
and i’ll look good with my new do.
women, too, will just have to
love me for my intelligence,
assorted scented candles
and incense!”

it’s okay, though.
no one will ever know
because he’ll always be
a voice in your head,
dressed as if he just got out of bed.

This entry was posted on Thursday, June 8th, 2006 at 3:49 pm and is filed under Uncategorized. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.