Entry level
How discouraging! To fail
the opening campaign, to lose
the first game, to get hung up
on the primary level. It feels
like Groundhog Day, but there’s
no one to fall in love with, no one
to suck out the sting. Instead,
the bank’s incessant chirps
about deteriorating funds, about
dwindling allowances. Oh! Shut up!
Can’t you see I’m trying my best,
the system is at it’s worst.
Why are we not hiring teachers,
why are we letting robots stock shelves,
why are we taking accounting advice
from an AI model paid for by Goldman Sachs?
I’d just like a couple bucks,
to leave the house with a purpose. I’d
like to come off the bench,
rise out of the bull pen. Let me
pitch a few innings, let my fingers
just touch the dirt and the seams.
I’ll water the grass, I’ll run
the snack bar, just give me something.
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