6.14.2009

If I had another nose I'd turn it.

While driving up Broadway last week to cash my check
I saw the guy who broke my nose
with a beer bottle four years ago.
He was going to the bank as well, or at least
he was parked in front of one.
My window was already down and I was only
doing twenty-five, but I decided to keep
my mouth shut and let him enjoy
his shiny new Mercedes. The last time I saw him
at the liquor store awhile back
he was pushing a rusty old tank of a Benz--
the boxy Eighties type that wanna-be Yuppies buy used
in order to tell attractive young ladies that they own
German luxury sedans. "Good for you, Anthony,"
I thought to myself as the six-disc stereo in my truck
cycled to the next musical selection.
We're both moving up in the world.

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