Poem-A-Day: Day 595

The Sub Missive

I’ve swung from here to there
and the only constant is some spying notion,
some mail-order indoctrination
gathering portfolio thoughts
in this weird world.

So I willingly let it.
I let the rolling stone gather moss,
I let it get randy and full of false bravado,
so when the time comes
the crippling crash will be inevitable.

The history is as long
as it appears to be short,
but mostly because the missive is submissive,
whether there’s help or not
or a ring to solve the problem.