When I arrived in Mike’s under the Stillwell Avenue <br />subway station I spotted Abie drinking a Bud <br />two empty cans already on the counter <br />surprised to see him at eleven in the morning <br />usually a night person but <br />perhaps never went home, nor had <br />he shaven in a few days and now <br />wore a scraggly beard. I sat <br />next to him asking, “How you doing <br />today? ” <br />“I beat it two times before but now I <br />don’t know.” <br />No expression in his voice <br />like a dim hum from within a distant tunnel. <br />“I beat the depression two times <br />before but I don’t <br />know if I can beat it now.” <br />“What happened? ” <br />His voice flat and unemotional <br />as if there were no longer <br />any question as to it’s certainty. <br />“Tomorrow I’m gonna be institutionalized. You <br />gotta want to help yourself. I don’t <br />want to help myself. Anyway <br />it goes back to childhood, it’s an <br />accumulation. All these years <br />hiding from life and now life <br />caught up with me. I got <br />myself in a box and <br />there’s no way out.” <br />Fearing the worst I howled, <br />“THERE’S ALWAYS A WAY OUT.” <br />Abie made a motion with his lips, a slight <br />motion of putting his lips together and <br />blowing out a bit of air, a <br />Pfff <br />which indicated <br />no hope, or <br />it didn’t matter, or <br />why bother, or <br />so what.<br /><br />Charles Chaim Wax<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/many-vain-attempts-at-escape/
