poems by president carter

it’s a kind of comedy at best...
(the laugh track is my waves of intoxication)
have you seen Bosh’s hell?
I will die wearing my boots working for the nursing home my parents mortaged their house
to die in.

I’ve seen my kids generation
un-aborted
waiting
faces lit by computer screens
born tired
dying wired
sitting with their legs crossed
on raw filthy pavement
waiting
for busses, rides, tow trucks, fathers, mothers, aunts.
Unprecident prosperity is a bitch.