Galley Slaves

I've not posted much lately because, well, I'm lazy, but also because my computer has grown extremely tired with age, making me crynical and ironic whenever someone mentions the "instantaneous" world of online publishing. But I have written a poem this morning, about life in Washington, which I do humbly offer you now.



I’ve not been to Café Milano
The Georgetown hot-spot
Where all the TV people hang out
The bookers, the producers
The talent.
That’s what they call people in front of a camera,
As if they’re the definition of.

I’ve not sipped Cosmopolitans
With Movers and Shakers.
After work I go home
To feed the kid, and kiss the wife
And—maybe
You’ve noticed, or at least you suspect—
I do believe this makes me better than you.