The Recession

It started with a piece of gum,
then a candy bar, then a pen
from the bank. I just slipped
them into my pocket when no
one was looking. And then it
was the free samples of food
at the gourmet market, I circled
again and again, taking handfuls
of shrimp, chestunuts wrapped
with peppered bacon, soft brie
on crackers, guacamole on pita
bread pieces. I ate until I was
full, then opened up a bottle
of Italian lemonade soda
at the end of the aisle and drank
that too. I dipped my hand
into the jar at the 7-11, taking
a handful of change from Jerry's
kids, I started cutting chains
off of bikes and riding away,
leaving them at the park when
my legs got tired. I jumped into
idling cars in front of the liquor
store and drove away until I
was out of gas. At the coffee shop
I took sweet and lows by the handful,
sugar, creamers, stir sticks. I ran
the tolls on the expressway, walked
away from diners without leaving
a cent. I had no guilt, no remorse.
I blamed it all on George Bush,
the younger one, the economy,
my lack of work and being old
and unhireable at this late stage
of life. I ran my credit cards to
the limits, taking trips to Coney
Island, Moscow, and New Zealand.
I changed my name, got more cards,
I was out of control, a runaway
train. There was no stopping me
until I tried to rob a bank and
took a bullet in the leg. Now I'm
in the hospital. I can't get up but
when I can, I see some stuff that
I could really use, but can't afford.