One Day After Work

by Doug Draime

A bird chirps outside my trailer
(if it was inside I might have something:
watching it spread its wings to fly before I set it free).
On my back on the bed
exhausted with seemingly every
muscle and bone in my body
screaming
babbling in pain,
from the job.
And I start to worry about my sons.
Over the radio 2 idiots scream
at each
other, one is on the political right
the other on the left.
Both are full of deep rank shit,
as is
anyone
who defines themselves in such
moronic and dull terms.
I turn the dial searching
for some classical
music; some rock,
jazz, Brazilian toe jam dancers,
anything but the insipid wailing
of the insane and warring world. I come across
George Gershwin’s Promenade, and
settle back on the bed.

I hear the
bird; it approves and is
singing along.
Another day tomorrow at
the $8.25 an hour job-
which gives me just enough
money to pay the rent, child support;
it keeps me in food, cigarettes, beer
and typing paper.
Gershwin ends
and some Chopin
is on. Rain is starting to fall,
tingeing on the roof like stray buckshot.
And I wonder where the bird has flown for
shelter,
and I wonder how long my body
can take it,
and I wonder when I will settle with my lot,
and I wonder how long the global
madness will continue,
and I wonder if my sons are safe,
and I wonder again where the bird has flown for
shelter.
Chopin ends and some music I don’t
recognize comes on. Rain falls
heavy and the wind is blowing.