They’re changing things in my mouth
and charging me a bunch for the service.
Filling here, root canal there, caps
and crowns and cleanings.
I got no money. Used to have
a bunch of it to throw at my friends:
booze, drugs, parties every night,
but it’s all gone now, history.
Mr. Larson says I been late
too many days. Say he got no jobs
that start at 9:30 am., only 8:00am.
Say he better start seeing
some changes.
You’re lucky I make it by 9:30!
I told him that on the phone
when I quit.
Don’t mind being poor though. Except
the dentist he don’t care about none of it.
Only worry to him is whether I got enough
to help keep his kids in private school
and his wife in Andrew Lloyd Webber tickets.
Can’t say I’d think any different
if I was him.
But I’m not and I don’t.
Sometimes the facts of life
aren’t nearly as poetic as they should be.
Joey’s coming over, he cashed in
some empties.
Pool Hall opens in twenty minutes.
There one last pint in the fridge,
think I’ll drink it.
the lazy photographer 