Obama, My Socialist Friend
By Reid Baer

A job loss
sends me back
to the Big City
to live in a once grand house
that has been turned into
too many apartments sharing space
with strangers and low lives
sleeping on the floor

I’m in the same old wrinkled suit
living out of a suitcase
late for an appointment
fit to be fired before I’m even hired
and complaining to a resistant
super about getting
more room
for myself and my boy

I talk
and talk to him and
a string of
self-important middle management
people ‘til I get to
the Main Man
who relents easily
enough face to face

He provides private space
for us like we were kings
though I realize
like when the phone suddenly rings
I’m dealing
with the devil himself
who wants to be my friend
because now I owe him everything
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