Peter Chapman Poetry


in America we have the indentured and the striving classes;
the line blurs, but the indentured can be identified
by the terrible grunts they emit while rolling the stone
up the hill and the striving for the yelps they emit while
chasing the stone down the hill

the indentured work for other people and eat mayonnaise

the striving work for other people and eat fruit

there are people below the indentured, not found by census
as there are those above the striving, above, even, the striving
who have arrived (run down the stone and made of it many patios)

these are few, they make no particular distinction
between happiness and sadness, and one of them,
whose dirty, dented Rolls Royce convertible
I once saw parked over a curb in Georgetown,
understands life is neither long nor short, just fair