Tom Davern stumbled into the Teacher’s Center
no hair left, not sure
if the curls fell out, or he yanked every strand
when his wife left him for George Chatfield,
a CEO of some software company
but more importantly, a millionaire
many times over.
On the couch he said, “I’m fucked, Bernstein.
Can’t live without her, tried, impossible.”
“Tom, ” I said softly,
“every so often I contemplate
the Rich:
Movie stars, rock stars, Supermodels
whose beauty hurts the heart
while countless busted faces struggle to smile.”
“Like this, ” said Tom, managing only twisted lips.
“This injustice of physical beauty
is the famous Capitalist tool
to mangle money from the forlorn.”
“I gave her all I had,
even maxed out eighteen credit cards
but she laughed
calling my cash Peanut Money
compared to Chatfield’s stuff
fifteen grand for a fucking watch, Bernstein
I swear to Christ.”
“The most I ever plunked down
was nineteen dollars for a Casio, military time.”
“I guess I ain’t smart, ” moaned Tom,
suddenly all too much
as he reached for his once golden tresses, none left
then slapping his skull, hard
without mercy, so I grabbed his hand saying,
“Buck up, lad.”
Charles Chaim Wax
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/attaining-the-marrow/
