Plea to the Bill Collector
Yes, Youth is mired with debt in loans from Luck
who carries its notes and won’t forgive chances
to unburden itself of adult expectations—the muck
of droning do’s and don’ts and their trances.
But Youth didn’t beg for aid to elude cop cuffs
after six-packs and smoked rubber in street races.
Instead it staked its skills through the rough;
but uninvited Luck was there anyway. Just in case.
And debts accrued—the loaner walked away.
And now toward Adulthood your collector threats.
You trail and taunt; hex misfortunate for pay,
like a lingering shadow demanding regrets.
Please, collector, put the bills in the shredder.
A plea of ignorance is made for the debtor.
Richard L. Matta grew up in New York’s Hudson Valley, attended Notre Dame, practiced forensic science, and now lives in San Diego with his golden-doodle dog. Some of his work is found in Ancient Paths, Dewdrop, New Verse News, San Pedro River Review, and Healing Muse.