The Enron in My Face
Posted on 21 August 2009
The Enron in my face is unmistakable
for I have borrowed millions
against the accounts of my father,
secreting them in the hope chest
of my parents’ wedding dreams:
a large pine box affair
with a red heart painted
on the upside-down lid.
Though we kept the creditors at bay
for generations by appearing to scrub
the dishes with soap and misery,
it fell to me to lose sight of the ball completely
and seal the bankruptcy.
I must now let the Lear jet of it fade,
head into the desert outside Houston,
find as many false gods as I can and pray.
As with indigestion, I keep telling myself
I had only a little to do with it,
but the overeating of desserts gives me away.
1 Response to The Enron in My Face
I always liked this poem and it really comes to life when you read it, especially the way you paint with your hands. I have a weird mental image of those ghostly airplanes that you really saw. Inanimate metal bodies hoping for survival in an environment that supports little life.
This seems to be yet another camera?
You confused me with a year and a half, though. Claptrap came out 3 years ago didn’t it? I remember enjoying this poem with my mother and I recall how the last line made her smile.
“As with indigestion, I keep telling myself
I had only a little to do with it,
but the overeating of desserts gives me away.”