We can’t afford to live where we live
and now? Skip delivery for dinner,
eat chips and salsa. Skip nights listening
to the rhythmic organ and snare drum
at the club in town. Ditch cable. Ditch
satellite radio. Ditch the bourbon
handmade in pre-soaked barrels.
Don’t need roses or fancy chocolate,
either, even when desire burns for it.
We cling to the crumbling bathroom tile,
the cabinet that won’t open because
old buildings have to be spoiled
with repairs and money, too.
The economy of what we’re willing
to live without shifts and lists on the tide.
In Florida, a hurricane re-arranges
the shoreline, boardwalks and swimming
pools drop into the water on both coasts.
There is so much plenty in the world,
but only other people have it. No one wants
to share. I have cut another length
from the bolt of this life and do not
know where to put the seams,
where my head and arms should go.