I live in that
tiny margin
between
the haves and
the homeless.
It makes
an interesting
but precarious
life. There is
no room for error.
A bad tooth,
a dead car and
things can
fall apart.
But you learn
to trust your
luck and wits.
It is like a
long range
wartime patrol
where any
surprises
will be bad.
Even so
I like it:
want little,
need little,
be happy.
Poetry and
a great fat cat.
When I make it
to my next
social insecurity
check with
more than
five dollars
remaining
in my account
I am joyous.
There are
far worse endings.
Just an old monk
from the last
century
trying to
survive a while
longer yet
in this
strange new one,
just breathing
until I'm not
anymore.

   ~mce