First Week in New Work City
by Paul Siegell
- For K.F
Who’s the spoiled ‘homenessless’ crashing your couch? Yer old college
roommate who drove a 10′ truck across 6 eastern borders—Maryland being
the worst—and came to you: the most logical: a class-skipping, 4th-year
matched med student, you who also just moved—boxes all over—you with
girlfriend leaving for nine mighty weeks in South America this Sunday. I’m
looking for a place, honest.
Who’s the ‘homepest’ notebook crashing on your couch? The “Can I borrow
a towel?” with all his unexpected stuff in SELF-ST RAGE—O, Pen to
Public, Pen to every poet in America, Pen to Poet Earth, where my gonna
have the editors send my Self-Addressed Stamped Envelopes? I’m busy
looking for a place, honest.
Bro, the ‘homewish’ wannabeatnik crashing your couch: unshaven in hat
humble jeans & Converse, strolled the old cheese steak soft hot pretzel city
as
business casuals devoured down a rushed lunch-break breath, strolled with
hands in pockets, wishing to live a single smile in his father’s childhood,
knowing he’ll be joining them all on Monday.
Yes, homeward, at last, the “badvertising” copywriter crashes: Done dropped
a frightening grand on an application fee and security deposit—You’ll love
the place: a monster-sized deck and hardwood floors. I just need one more
night, honest.