I write to regain my bearings and reboot. It’s just not that serious these people and life issues, right?. I was a smoker when I wrote this poem. I guess The Lobbyist will be happy to know I gave up that bad habit! Poetry keeps me sane…

The Lobbyist

This woman at an elevator
Was lobbying against my smoke
The ash cans didn’t count for starting up
But putting out the choking fumes
I forced upon her

Not goodwill, money or sex
Could be extorted from that soul
No secret smiles of afterglow
Or posture of secured future
Friendship brings no floor
To hear the lobbyist

Her ride up was too slow
Then, she stopped short of the number
Pushed to hard and caused a shaft
To break her lift
That swayed her against me
Against us all