Enter Home Planet News Poetry of Issue #5                         Page 16
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Pneumonia Morning

The boat in the storm
where the anxious
call for mercy
is my main mode
of transportation.
My fellow passengers and I
unmoored from belief. Adrift
on the high, aching sea.
The dead wind redolent w/salt.
Lifeless fish mount at our feet.
Causing list, panic.
The captain jumps ship.
The conductor foregoes coin
for lifeboat.

There is nothing to rescue,
really. All was left behind
when we boarded and paid
the beast. Dinari, dollar,
makes no matter. Our grasp is digital
at best and the service sucks
out here. We bitch about it constantly,
pay up and do nothing to rectify.
Small wages, smaller things
is the bottom line here
where the frightened
call for mercy
and the boats
routinely sink.

  Mike Jurkovic