Three by Paul Lojeski
Driving to the Job
Spring morning,
blue warmth
down jammed
up highway
being widened.
Giant, yellow
machines
rocking back
and forth,
tearing at
the ground:
too, too many
of us here now,
needing more
asphalt, more
engine room,
more roaring
for more.
Those many,
many more trees
shoved
and sawed
down
but justifiable
casualties
of our brilliance,
like the Sioux
and Apache
and the Buffalo
falling in fresh
snow drifting
in ancient winds.
And I hit the gas
hard, racing
with the rest
of the mob
towards oblivion.
No Need for Bitterness
Look, don’t put
yourself out on
my account. If
you can’t pay
me a living wage
or the minimum
wage or any wage
at all, don’t worry
about it, be happy
cause it’s all the
same groove,
whether the road
to riches beyond
imagination or the
wheel of bone
Recommended for You
breaking poverty
beyond conception,
it doesn’t matter.
This is, after all,
the American dream
and dreams are
often nightmares.
That’s the way it is,
so pay me whatever
you want to or don’t
pay me a plug nickel
but, please, do me
a favor and take your
fucking boot from off
my bleeding neck.
OMG, Another Godzilla!!!
Post atomic bomb monster,
Godzilla, metaphor for the
monster in all of us, still
on the rampage at a screen
near you, apparently the
never-ending sequel to us,
beasts of destruction roaming
the darkness, roaring in this
star-filled theater. But who
needs digital fakes, when
terror’s all too real. Go on,
peek in the mirror. I dare you.
Paul Lojeski
