It’s that time of year
with a Labour Day birthday coming up
after 50, I stopped counting
the years but the times that I am an afterthought are quickly growing.
Back to school again, I am not in school again
and I am barely sleeping
so at least I am always learning or
feeling disenfranchised alone under the moonlight.
It’s important for me to have options
the list of pros and cons say drop out and go for something bigger
I haven’t crossed out the line I drew with a Sharpee for the Fall 2016,
there is a grassroots campaign
sweet grass in my mind,
to do my Doctorate in Bioethics.
That’s my superfecta!
I pull it together then I get unpulled apart like pork in my sandwich
there’s a part of me, still a part of me that tries to hold it together
because that hardest thing is to stop believing.
I’m looking for a job
or natural substitutes that give me the flavour of grassroots, change and revolution
I believe that a change is going to come
and things will get better.
Yet it moved towards a song instead of works that are spoken.
I care for my Mom
the stay at home career choice for the new millennium.
Underpaid, I think I’ll start taking Valium
vacuuming the floor and the curtains
and serving cocktail wieners.
People say they like me
they want me to do well
like everyone else
so they forget me.
I am falling so far behind the others
like quarters in the sofa cushions
and crudités in the compost.
I can hear their voice
they can see my voice
but like two tin cans tied with twine I am senseless.
Unemployed, living with your Mom a disease HIV
which I survived through it all
and where people have tried to erase us
it feels like my victories never happened,
the point of being for me is no longer senseless.
I have what it counts
but didn’t make it to the census.
I belive in hope
I am losing hoping
I am the undeground part of the GDP
it’s up to you to decide
am I really any value in this economy?