The Lucky Life
by Dan Senn

Click PLAY and read text aloud (see
L1327).
See Performance Note.




The shelves
at Bussie Pharmacy
stocked themselves
in 1968.
Customers
put exact change
on the counter,
the doors
were left unlocked
and I never
pretended
to be busy.

Instead,
I drove drugs
to houses
all over town
in a black
stick shift
Volkswagon bug
running on air

LOUDLY.

Instead,
I watched
older folks,
unfold grimy bills,
count faceless coins
from zipper purses
in homes
that smelled
of fish, animals,
and Christmas cards.

When it snowed,
the engine
atop the rear tires,
whipping, revving,
skidding and spinning
between banks of snow
forty feet high
was a job
requirement.

Back at the store,
having stretched
my delivery out
as long as possible,
my boss, Mr Wills,
took my money,
as I stomped my feet,
unbuckled my boots,
bared my shoes,
put on a
smart-assed look,
and went to clear
the cash from
the counter tops.

We wrapped
Christmas gifts
in June.

All my wages
went to clothing,
movie tickets,
gas and girls.

Then, wanting more,
I quit that lousy job
to work in a factory
cutting tubes
for light fixtures
which was, like,
a real drag.

Then, I worked
as a construction laborer
and bought my own
Volkswagon.
A red one
that needed gas
until I blew it up
making donuts
in the snow
at Riverside Park.

Undaunted,
I became a doctor,
moved to Prague,
rode the trams...
and started a festival

DS 012219
ęDan Senn 2019

BMI

Performance Note:
Read like a smart-ass until

"undaunted" and then effect an
aire of intellectual hauteur.


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