poem of the day 01.05.23

talking capitalism with the pizza man


this is not an evening
to count my carbs

or the years that i have left
until retirement

i am on dinner break from work

feeling decadent
with my pallet and time

fuck health
for it is also a state of mind

so i feel sick the whole way around

and the pizza man says to me,
you look like you’re doing nothing
but loafing around today

a bold statement
from one stranger to another

good sir, i want to tell him

i’m gainfully employed
subscribe to at least three streaming services
recycle most items
and pay my taxes on time
to keep the american war machine running

i want to tell him
i’ve been broken and battered by this system
for longer than some people have been alive

and that i always pay in cash

but i just say
nah, i’m on my break

like that explains the entire course of my existence
up until this moment where were crossed paths

the pizza man nods like he knows
throws two steaming plain slices
into a box for me

sighs and says, yeah,
it’s good to make a buck when you can

which is as stupid
and insipid
philosophy
as i’ve ever heard

that i’m stunned into silence

and forget
to leave a tip

as i hightail it
away from this abomination
and out the pizza parlor door.


                                        01.04.23