Employment Is Relative
I discovered true happiness
When I was unemployed.
I always worried about money,
About food,
About bills,
But not much else.
It was almost freedom.
I spent my time
Bouncing between libraries,
Coffee shops,
Or quiet outdoor patios.
I would write.
I would read.
I would revise and rewrite.
Living the dream.
I always felt
Everything happened for a reason.
It was a rough patch,
This unemployment.
It lasted
Too long
For my comfort.
It was necessary –
I had to
Live my passion,
If only for a moment.
I glimpsed at my future.
My beautiful future.
A homeless
Starving
Writer.
What a dream I have
For myself.
I’ll fill it with
Rejection letters,
Unfinished stories
And drafts,
Lists of ideas
For stories and poems,
And the thoughts
Of a lunatic mind
With no hope
Of recovery
Or redemption.
Such is the life of
A writer.
There’s never enough paper
For the whirlwind of thoughts
The mind endures.
Too many thoughts
Forgotten.
Never enough time to write them
Unless
You’re unemployed.
February 13, 2016
They told me
There was a problem
On the dancefloor.
I saw nothing.
I knew nothing.
A regular customer
Pointed at someone.
I asked to talk outside.
He said, “No!”
He argued with me.
He wanted to fight.
I asked his friends
To get him outside.
They argued with me.
If I forced him out,
This would become a brawl.
Someone got in his face.
I told them to back off.
The guy and his friends left.
I took the person who
Got in the guy’s face
To the back gate.
Their behavior was the problem.
They called me Transphobic,
And said there was a hate crime.
I told them to call the police.
The next day, they boycotted the bar.
They said I kicked them out,
But listened to the
Douchebag straight guy’s story.
They said our bar and
The macho security
Hated trans people.
They never spoke to
Us or came back.
They don’t know
The douchebag straight guy
Tried to fight me.
He never came back.
Trans people still go to that bar.
From the poetry collection Men Are Garbage.
James Pack 