I was running late

First day

New job

Bustling through bodies

Leaning forward for leverage

Contorting

            as I pushed

Squeezed

Bounced

            toward work

A failed phone alarm…

That stupid phone

Shattered-screen-Dysfunctional battery-Unreliable coverage-Too damn expensive to replace

Phone

I started mentally

exercising excuses

Generating fabrications

As I multi-tasked

Grappling

People

And

Myself

Wrestling with a moral dilemma

If telling a fib would be okay

Just once

I looked about my surroundings

A city filled with

Faux purposeful action

Hundreds of thousands of people

like

Maggots on a carcass

Wriggling with excited movement

Going nowhere

 There was a fire in my building

            But they could check

Death in the family

            But they could check

They were shooting a movie on the street

            But they could check

 I hated Google

            Destroyer of imaginative lies

 My phone alarm didn’t go off

            You’re fired

 I pulled my purse under my arm

Protecting the football

During a goal line push

Sweating beneath my blouse

Sticky

 I paused at the crosswalk

Deciding if risking death

            ignoring the red hand

To get to work

            was actually a legitimate debate

I glanced down

            saw a run in my hose

Even before sending out invitations

My pity party began

             My life is a shamble

            I have gained ten pounds

                        while unemployed

            I don’t even want this job

            I am just broke

                        down to my last thousand in the bank

            I can’t call my parents

                        again

            How did I end up so miserable

            I wanted to curl up

                        cry

Movement

And confirmation from

The iconic illuminated static walker

Triggered my mindless Pavlovian first step

Only to be halted

Awakened

            with the sound

            the pain

Of shin on steel

Jarred to reality

Angry

I looked down

A woman in a wheel chair

Facing the wrong damn way

In a rush hour crossing

 So out of place

            A slug at a saltlick

            A bagwoman at the ballet

            A clown quaffing cognac at the Copacabana

 Scanning up

I peered into a twisted

            twitching face

Disheveled red hair

Eyes unfocused

A droplet of drool

            escaping her mouth

 Right arm in the air

            Moving hiccupped

                        counter clockwise

Left hand

            a strained

                        spastic fist

                        by her side

A  “Me Like Cookies”

            Muppet endorsed t-shirt

Red patterned stretch pants

Made from cloth

            Like that from my Grandmother’s sofa

She was maybe twenty

Seated in a cheap collapsible wheelchair

            impeding me from…

                        what…

                              failure…

                                    unhappiness…

Around her neck was a sign

I BET YOU CAN’T HIT ME WITH A DOLLAR