seventh entry

So, moving to bed-stuy has now become sleeping on an air mattress on the floor in bed-stuy for at least a week. Sigh. Beats working for a living I guess. In a related story, I need to start working for a living. I'm poor. Here's a poem about that.

Here's my poem:

I AM DEAF PLEASE GIVE ME MONEY

He gives you the card but he doesn’t let go and it stops you stupidly.
Gives me the impression that basic human interaction hasn’t changed over time.
‘Me no speak’ said the caveman non-linguistically, with the back of his throat.
No amount of charm school will keep my ancestor’s forehead hair away.
Amount of time I spent studying evolution: none. But I know it happened.
Of all the times I thought I went deaf, the worst was the MC5 reunion show.
All I could hear for the next day and a half was warm whines and the sound of my fear.
I am deaf and need money/please help/god bless the card says.
Am I that gullible I can’t help laughing out loud but it made no difference.
I call out to my ancestors who can’t understand because they’re primordial fish.
Call him what you will, the deaf guy on the corner is several steps ahead of a fish.
‘Him no talk good cause no am hear’ says the caveman again (a very advanced caveman.)
No doubt in my mind that the primordial fish wouldn’t give him any change either.
Doubt rises in me that he’s even deaf at all, though I have no evidence to support this.
Rises from the blackened pool of pre-history that we have no textbook illustrations of.
From the cave to the street-corner took practically no time at all in a sense.
The card stays tightly gripped in his hand. He must only have so many of them.
Card to my mother I never sent. ‘happy mother’s day! I am too poor to send this.’
To the caveman I now say ‘dig up some gold in your cave and save it for me, okay?’
The money I don’t have causes an equal number of problems as the money I do have.