THE NOISE ATTRIBUTABLE TO DEBT COLLECTORS

Harken: inappropriate calls from debt collectors in the morning.

They sound like surly birds in an inhumane timber.
And aren't they just so smug with your acct. innards on their
screens querying you about how your disburse your sesame sums.

The nerve, the unfettered nerve...
Undiluted by any type of propriety...
As if the phone were a fuchsia vibrator (unribbed)...

As if we weren't locked in a see saw of mutual squirreling (usury).

a.) you squirreling from me the amount I did not possess but that
you put up
b.) I squirreling above the threshold of the interest payment
just so I might pick away at the capital iceberg.
c.) the both of us creditors in the sense that we have, have to,
to give

The Given is a sort of
nil palette, an operator associate so callous and rife with
muted insubordination that they park a cargo van of air-
conditioners in your space, clearly marked "your space"
by incomprehensible stencils.

Back to the nerve, the gall, the thought that the debt
collector addressing me over fiber optic lines drives a black
Lincoln Navigator with illegal tints as a statement on
the illegitimacy of taste when it dawns on me and I begin to
Judge Judy the shit out of all my nemeses.