Travis Bickle, I feel you: deadbeat Marine
just returned from ‘Nam,
can’t sleep because of the dreams,
but you still need a job.
Like you, my parents don’t know my career
is a falsification of time;
37 rejections so far, I’ve sold
not one word of my rhyme.
We policed the third world but scum
lives on our own welcome mats:
pimps and publishers,
drug-dealers and Democrats.
I will pull up and push up,
calligraph and fist pump;
until, like you,
I’m ready, too.
All content ©Dario DiBattista 2011. All posts are for display purposes only and not to be considered published.
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