This week, the folks at Poetry Thursday encouraged participants to write something based on overhearing a snippet of conversation. I heard Mr. Berg interviewed on NPR this afternoon and was so moved by what he had to say, I wrote this.
Another Ordinary Day
"I am sure that the one who wielded the knife felt Nick's breath on his hand. . ." Michael Berg
In the cafe, commuters
order their double talls, easy
money for beans they never
had to grow under the shadow
of coca plants and machine
guns. They guzzle it down
by the gallon, drink petroleum
like coffee, a volatile mix
of currency, sweat, and sand.
On the front page, men pound
each other on the back, fists
pumping the air, another win
for the home team, inflated
by the steriods of spin. It sells
faster than Hummers on the fourth
of July, cheaper than a ten
year old with unblemished skin
and trusting eyes. We flim flam
ourselves and never count
the change. So much easier
to sit and sip, skip ahead
to the inevitable happy ending.
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