telemarketers. they've been so nice
lately
all stuffed into their cavernous
barn
selling everything
from windows,
to viagra,
to medical insurance.
it sounds like
a birdcage at the zoo, full
of exotic
birds, chirping like crazy.
one asked me the other day,
i think his name was
James Clark,
asked me how my back was doing.
he had a copper wrap
around band to help me, if i had
49.99 and a good credit card.
who ever stops to call you and
ask you such
a question. how's your back?
is that sweet, or what?
no one that i know ever seems
concerned with my health
and well being.
note to mom and dad, my back is sore.
of course after about ten minutes
of shooting the breeze with, James
Clark,
and telling him a big fat lie,
that my wife
has all my credit cards and she's
in the basement doing laundry
and i'm in a wheelchair, blind
as a bat, and need to go
to the bathroom, before i
take the elevator down,
they get angry and say mean words
before hanging up.
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