hunched over the desk

i take  down the box

from the top

shelf of the closet.

already

it's tax time. how is that possible?

how did

so many months go by

in the blink

of a weary eye.

do i really have to lug

out the old

calculator,

plug it into the wall

and insert a roll

of paper

where the paper

clicks and goes.

i can't believe that it still

works,

after all these years,

circa 1984,

although some of the numbers

are worn off

or stick if i don't press

hard enough.

i need a ledger too,

bank statements,

receipts

and W-2 s.

not to mention a handful

of fine point number two

pencils.

with a sharpener and an

eraser nearby.

a strong pot

of coffee

would be nice as well

and something

to nibble on

while i grind the numbers

down.

where's my green visor?

oh, there it is.

i think i see it,

it's in the dog's mouth

being chewed again.