the complaint department

i write down my list

of grievances

and go down to the local

complaint department.

i see disgruntled

husbands and wives,

children full of sugar

with homework

under their arms. i see

old people

with canes and dogs

that are now their eyes.

i see cops and protestors.

tear gassed and bruised.

dazed and confused.

i see a world of

upset souls,

store owners, bar keeps,

priests in long

robes.

all cold and stone faced,

sharpening their knives.

chomping at the bit

to express their woes.

i look at my list.

it's a short list. just

one thing, just one thing

i want to know.

i've got nothing really

to complain about,

so turn around

and go home.