I wrote as if my life depended on it
     as the talent slowly washed away
I was waiting for a bus
that would take me to the next station
     but still no sign of it coming
and I felt like a panhandler
     on a corner of Yonge Street
     pocketing nickels
     occasional dimes
for words seemed no one wanted to hear
and whenever I would open my mouth
to tell them of my misfortunes
     they’d shake their heads and walk away
     before I had a chance to speak

I investigated the horoscope connection
     found nothing but wishful thinking
too little voodoo and not enough ghosts
although I soaked in a pleasant Jupiter moon
     and I looked in the mirror
     saw past the five o’clock shadow
how my face had changed
since I was a boy
     my children were getting older
     with no recognition yet
     for any brilliance they might possess
plenty of ambition
but still largely unemployed

© 1985
Inputted and revised © 2019

840 hits as of July 2024

04/08/2019

Posted on 04/08/2019
Copyright © 2024 Chris Sorrenti