I Hate This Job
This job of being dumped by you
is one which every morning
I arrive early for
and every night I clock out late
my love requires that I be on call
and so it calls me
when I can’t reach your office
I set up base camp
beside an abandoned mini van
between a burning lightbulb factory
and an incomplete parking garage
at the end of every bar
that will still have me
sketch long lines along the margins
of your pink slip
a broken heart
is worse than one hundred
cantankerous foremen
I’ve told them
“I quit, you viscous fuckers!”
more times than Cagney resented Lacey
They smoke thick cigars, knowing
damn well that I’m not that serious
grunting authoritatively like a wild geese fest
“Get back to work you fucking clown.”
(from my book Avenge me. Baobob Tree Press)
Multiverse Johnson 