pleading with a nightmare is like politely asking the bubonic plague to leave
through the front door;
it's simply not within its nature,
it permeates and deepens and makes mincemeat out of marrow,
until the nightmare becomes a reality
that stays with you wherever you go,
a little memento
to remember,
like a piece of chewing gum stuck to the side of your head
to cover up a bullet hole leaking all over the desk
each year my real estate agent
gifts me a lottery ticket for xmas,
one of those $2 scratchers that
you can win (maybe) $20k....or a couple of bucks,
more than likely just a couple of bucks,
and i figured she sends me this just in case i win
the $20k and want to use that sweet, sweet lotto winnings
as a down payment on a rental property,
so that i can have tenants that don't like me,
and something akin to passive income,
but i don't what that sort of stress,
though i'm not sure i'm ready
to tell my real estate agent that yet
my back hurts,
i am 35,
i’m tired,
i’m 35,
i’m overweight,
i’m 35,
it’s not that old,
but it’s not 25,
i need to go to bed at a decent hour,
i’m 35,
i have to go to work tomorrow,
i’m 35,
i probably need to schedule my next doctor’s appointment,
i’m 35,
i look up when i need to get a colonoscopy,
i’m not that old,
i’m 35,
35
35
Fred Aiken Writing 