fleeing on foot
what still haunts Grace
is the families fleeing on foot
holding hands
the little children with their flimsy school backpacks
meant for holding little more than a snack
now carrying all that they might come out with
and more than that –
driving past them without stopping –
having no room, no seats
being one more in the long line of cars
passing up those without
unearned credit
having our house appraised
for the lender
for the cash-out refi
for the long-planned cabin
for wildness
there is the unspoken uncomfortable knowledge
that according to the rules of economics
and the inverse relationship between supply and demand
and the current state of things
all indications are that I will personally benefit
financially though certainly not psychologically
from enormous loss
another privilege I am uncertain
how to go about offsetting
another roll of the dice
with profound implications
I can take no credit for
when the WiFi barely works
0s and 1s drip
like fat orbs of honey
no, molasses –
black-brown and glossy
slowly teasing me with
the taste of warm gingerbread
I’m like those
inconsistently rewarded lab rats –
they never give up –
and I click & reload over and over
maybe this time
the bits will go down smoothly
my desires will sail through
the twisted pipe of fiber/cable
and the rental car will
magically be reserved
