'DO YOU SAVE FOR A RAINY DAY?'
I work hard, pull in a little scratch, &
my laptop dabbles in seppuku,
leaps from a tall building,
overdoses on a googolplex of giga-biturates.
Some sort of protest, I think—against what,
I can’t say, too numb from isolation panic
of data loss & a bank statement
that reads like binary code for a closed door.
It happens often: money lands like a firefly in my palm,
then glitters off to someone else’s fairy tale.
What good is it trying to save
when already it rains over long grass & rooftops,
stacks of picnic paper plates,
the muddy mausoleum
where bodies of old raindrops rest?
I can’t even research statistics of loss
with computer in pieces down the road.
All I can do is run my hands
through the penny jar looking for a dime,
or collect quarters fallen
to the floorboards of my car
while telling myself it’s raining again,
it’s always raining somewhere in the world.
ACE BOGGESS is the author of two books of poetry: The Prisoners (Brick Road, 2014) and The Beautiful Girl Whose Wish Was Not Fulfilled (Highwire, 2003). His writing has appeared in Harvard Review, Mid-American Review, RATTLE, River Styx, and many other journals. He lives in Charleston, West Virginia.