The Losing Side

A simple man of modest means

Seeking his dreams like he’s looking for lost keys

Stashed up with memories 

Of who he used to be

A rope tied around his throat

Choked out with doubt

Till he can hardly breathe

Picking at seams

He watches his friends leave

Their final words, obscenities

Rolls up the window, turns the AC up cold

And the stale air through his thinning hair

And the scent of the seats 

And the ache in his knees says he’s growing old

All told there’s mold under the glove compartment

Ever since he left that dark apartment

Ever since he left his heart discarded 

Started sleeping in his car again and spends

All his money on gasoline

And all his time on elegies for what could’ve been

He won’t stop looking but he never sees

Beyond daily atrocities

And the building bills and fees it takes

To make it in the land of the free where nobody’s home

As some simple man of modest means

Stuck in traffic on a lonely road

They say beggars can’t be choosers 

Still we’re begging just to get by

In a world of winners and losers

We’re fighting for the losing side