You know that I know
that I’m not the chosen one.

You know that I know
that I’m not going there.

You know that I know
that I’m just another round
of chump change for the mill.

You know that I’m lonely
and I talk to myself
all the time
like the madmen
and the prophets.

You know that it is over
for me
as I walk along the
sunny pavement

Down the steep hill
along Glenwood
walking to work at
McDonalds in the
space of fast food
parking lots.

I rose again
only to fall again
into parking lots
and other cement that
glints
and to ducks
shaking their rumps
in brown ponds.

You know I can’t win,
can’t lose,
can’t do anything
so grand so big
so wonder-rich.

Another boy
walking along the
curving edge
of another white
cement dam
holding back
the deep
frigid waters.

How many times
must I confess
what no one
listens to?

I am lonely here.