april 15th

i hear a dog barking
outside the window, and
there's someone knocking
at my door with a registered
letter from my mother, that's
how we communicate now, but
i can't be bothered.
i'm shuffling papers,
taking notes, getting organized
for what's coming. tax time.
i've got the calculator out
and i'm all set to pound
the keys to see what i made,
what i spent, what i need to
give the kid, the ex, and an
assorted short list of tax
deductible charity organizations.
money arrives in glass fulls
and swims out like a stream
bursting over the levees
and sending me to high ground.
but it comes down this, a bed,
a roof, food, a good book,
a blank sheet of paper to do
this on, and i'm good. vodka
helps too and someone with a
name like marla, but i'm getting
distracted, i've got work to do.
where's my pencil sharpener?