You Are Being Sued

you are being sued by the irs,
the serious
sounding woman says
on the phone as you listen
to your voice mail.
call this number immediately
or you will serve jail time.
so i do after fixing a tuna sandwich
and pouring a glass of milk.
I can't find any chips,
and the pickles are all gone.
somewhat disappointed
I sit down at the table to eat,
then I call.
an Indian sounding man who gives his
name as Wilfred Owens
states that i owe the government
four thousand
nine hundred and seventy three
dollars from erroneous tax filings
and that if I refuse to pay,
they will see me in court.
I can hear the babbling of a hundred
other Wilfred Owens
in the background, there is the echo
and din of a warehouse.
English seemingly being everyone's
second or third language.
I plead my case, begging forgiveness
and ask if I can
bring the money in immediately.
I have it in cash
in a paper bag I offer.
I can be at the irs offices
in less than an hour.
this startles Wilfred into silence.
you have that much cash, he says.
I can almost hear his lips smacking
together. yes, I tell him.
but he says no. he says that I can
pay by Visa. no checks, or cash,
credit cards only.
I tell him okay. I tell him to hold
on. hold on Wilfred, I say
politely, let me get my wallet.
i'll hold he says amid the chatter
of ringing phones and talking.
I call my dog, put him on a leash
then go for a nice long walk in
the park. when I get back
an hour later, Wilfred is no longer
holding, he's given up on me,
so I call back.
this time i owe seven thousand
three hundred and twelve dollars.
my new irs agent's name is James
Jones. I ask him if I can bring what
I owe in cash. he says no. no cash.