I was walking to the bank
To cash a check, when
Suddenly I heard commotion
From inside.
A young woman with
Her child stalked out
Through the door and
Yelled at who must have been
The loan officer:
You have no soul,
You piece of shit!
She slammed the door
And drove away
But left me thinking over
What she said.
Was it true,
Was she unfair,
Was it beyond the
Officer’s control?
You have no soul,
You piece of shit!
It rang out in my ears
As I imagined a sort
Of soulless, putrid shit pile
Laughing at the poor.
I swore I smelled
Its stench. My eyes
Burned with harsh
Acidity.
You have no soul,
You piece of shit!
The next day I went
To meet this person
And discover what
The woman meant.
I asked the teller
Where to see them
And they paused,
Uneasy saddened.
She hung herself
Last night, I’m sorry.
A sad tale.
ReplyDeleteI thought so too.
ReplyDeleteWhat a sad story.
ReplyDeleteAnd, what a poem, Ben!
Thank you H'y. Missed you.
ReplyDeleteWere following Ben! Your poetry is awesome! Not to mention that I too was a teller, at a bank, and heard news of people offing themselves all the damn time. Anyways, your poems are the shit and the background tunes just add to it. Peace.
ReplyDeleteVery happy to have you reading!
ReplyDelete