Under the envelope [ A Post-Graduate Lament] rev.1/30/2020

I just received my three pages of consolidated student loan bills. I slid it under their postage-paid self- addressed envelope; I filed it with the rest of my day.

 

Whoa! A dry empty bottle of tequila, torn packets of salt from the quick Mart

and a dehydrated lemon. Half a pack of cigarettes, two beers,

a bottle of cooking sherry, and half a bottle of vanilla extract,

(mistakenly taken when I left home). Never did “blow,”

never wanted to go that far from “shore”.

 

Dog is fine. I’m great, flat broke. Collecting unemployment,

trapped in my electric blanket ‘til Hell stops freezing over.

Salads are good with imaginary tomatoes. Mold can be cut or ignored.

Dog is tired of eating saltines and cheerios  though.

Shush up, there’s no cheese for that whinin’.

I know! I gotta’ go shopping! Tomorrow.

Where am I  going right now? To check on the sinking oil gauge.

I’m freezing my ass off. Whatever is left of it, at this age.

 

I still have a smoke and a dog; maybe, a part-time job.

Yup! Somewhere I’m overdue. Yup! Wrong diet, wrong choices.

Gettin’ skinny, depressed, avoiding the Sober Halls;

and most of all, having to avoid time.

 

It’s alright; I got yesterday’s coffee grinds, a loyal dog, and a couple of smokes left.

Meet me under the envelope.