The Feeling of Plenty

I have a check I need to deposit Drive the few blocks To the bank. I use to skate to the bank When I had enough The make the trip Or ride the bike Now the car is my best friend. I look at my bleached, shabby, dirty year old shoes and think I Should get new ones. I think of accounts I think about money Of material things Of what it all means. For any year or age I have all that I could Want or need or use This is a high point. It’s overcast today Another work filled Afternoon. To pay in to play. I down my mug Of coffee an Old favorite And think of new addiction. All this luxury. All this pleasure. This plenty. This random luck. Be appreciative, It strains my ability, To have feelings, All this plenty. All those who don’t, have as I do, live as I do, it circles my mind, The feeling of plenty. Is it guilt? A self-satisfying response, To a lottery I won For no apparent cause. I should just be happy. That I can live. Be grateful. For having plenty. I see those left Out in the cold Weathered and ragged Time grown old. And I have plenty. Images of the world At large and up close Stories of those I’ll never meet. Who deserves what? What is right? Why is so much wrong? This has been how long? By birth I am wealthy. Because I am healthy. And live in a world. Where some have all. Where some get little. And there’s a way To find plenty. I can be grateful But I can see clearly. This gap that widens, between nations, between peoples, the takers and losers, defectors and rulers, And can’t help but have. The feeling of plenty.