sometimes I wonder
why I drink white wine
instead of white lightning

why I survey the brooklyn bridge
            from my window
and not the south forty

why I ride the subway to work
Instead of a tractor

why cockroaches pester my life
and never boll weevils

sometimes I feel like my name
should be ebeneezer

like i should have corns
            on my feet
and a fiddle on my shoulder

like I should sniff snuff
spit day’s work
drool into a well-chewed corn-cob pipe
sit splay-legged  in my rockin’ chair
watchin’ grass widdas go by
from my high front porch
then I could go into town
            next  sattiday night
and dance the ladies

but I’m already here