She Complains
She complains ‘bout the sun in her eyes as she drives…
tan skin tells it like it is… tall shadows…
at the years end… only once in a lifetime…
they stare… at their clocks… we see…
VCRs ours are still blinking… twelve…
they run… from themselves… they run…
radiant glow in the morning… another day… another dollar…
what’s left to look forward?… they holler…
Jake Waidelich: December 30, 1999
