dog day afternoons
I fill out applications but they never call.
I guess they take one look at my work record
and throw it away.
so I lie in bed all day
staring at the butchered, crucified sun.
I listen to radio on the Internet –
mostly grunge, indie rock –
while the razors dance
in the black hole of my mind.
I fantasize about raping the young wife upstairs.
sometimes I think I’m in Hell with the souls
of America’s war dead
but at least I can go to the fridge
and pour myself a glass of cold water.