AT THE TOP OF THE FOOD CHAIN
BUT THE BOTTOM OF THE LINE
I am an American.
I rush to be before the bullet,
as I push air out of my way.
I snap commands, advice
without request, involuntarily.
I wait only briefly for anything.
I comb my hair without looking,
as fast as possible, then
cant understand why my
strands are haphazard.
I brush past, my goal in sight,
but you, who are you?
I am an averter.
My eyes have never touched
anyone. I will rush to my grave
and even in the tomb
will be pissed, for everything
I didnt get to finish.
I am an American. I pledge allegiance
to the clock, to productivity, to the bottom line.
Published in BLACK BEAR REVIEW
A Literary Magazine For The Concerned Poet And Artist