Tom Davern stumbled into the Teacher’s Center <br />no hair left, not sure <br />if the curls fell out, or he yanked every strand <br />when his wife left him for George Chatfield, <br />a CEO of some software company <br />but more importantly, a millionaire <br />many times over. <br />On the couch he said, “I’m fucked, Bernstein. <br />Can’t live without her, tried, impossible.” <br />“Tom, ” I said softly, <br />“every so often I contemplate <br />the Rich: <br />Movie stars, rock stars, Supermodels <br />whose beauty hurts the heart <br />while countless busted faces struggle to smile.” <br />“Like this, ” said Tom, managing only twisted lips. <br />“This injustice of physical beauty <br />is the famous Capitalist tool <br />to mangle money from the forlorn.” <br />“I gave her all I had, <br />even maxed out eighteen credit cards <br />but she laughed <br />calling my cash Peanut Money <br />compared to Chatfield’s stuff <br />fifteen grand for a fucking watch, Bernstein <br />I swear to Christ.” <br />“The most I ever plunked down <br />was nineteen dollars for a Casio, military time.” <br />“I guess I ain’t smart, ” moaned Tom, <br />suddenly all too much <br />as he reached for his once golden tresses, none left <br />then slapping his skull, hard <br />without mercy, so I grabbed his hand saying, <br />“Buck up, lad.”<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/attaining-the-marrow/
