not that I’m bitter, but...
well, yeah, I am bitter
my one day off from the factory
Marie and I are laid up on the
second hand couch watching the
Travel Channel; commercials
disguised as episodes high lighting
excursions, destinations, vistas
we’ll never see without the aid
of satellite and television
Wayne Newton’s Las Vegas
especially vexes me – his mansions
jets, helicopter, yacht, his
priceless art collection
(his Van Gogh sketch alone could
enable me and any twenty of my
co-workers to live the remainder of
our lives in unemployed comfort)
and if gazing upon his Arabian
show horses, fleet of luxury
European cars and beautiful high
maintenance wife is not painful enough
when the narrator announces that
Wayne Newton plays the Stardust
forty five weeks out of the year
my wife pities his lack of free time
I work sixty hours a week
I live in a leaky trailer and drive
a thirty year old car that’s not a classic
I can scarcely afford a comic book
yet, not only do I not get her pity
I can’t even get a hot meal
© Karl Koweski 2004