poem

 The Investor

I heavily invested, fairly early on, in an unknown company that manufactured something utterly banal but essential. Not that I’m some genius. Some card shark who knows everyone’s tell. There were other companies that made the exact same thing. Everyone knew it had to sell. The demand seemed limitless. I didn’t care about the competition. After all, there are lots of toilet paper and breakfast cereal brands and they all do fine. None of them ever fails. Not like a pizza joint or a love affair begun under the influence of infinite transcendence. That was my disposition— a tendency toward the sure thing over the spectacular pay off. I was what is known as a smart investor. If forced to play roulette, half went on black, half went on red while I always kept a little behind to cover the vig. I didn’t believe in bubbles and downturns were just the term for the end of every love song. I don't even buy the things I’ve leveraged my life on. Whatever’s on sale, I guess. It’s best not to get too emotionally involved. Don’t let someone else’s jackpot instill feelings of doubt. Trust the process. All your losses will even out.

4/6/25