The Promotion

The tie is a silk noose I bought on a whim

back when the future didn't look quite so slim.

Now I stand at the sink in the dark of the night,

eating ham from a plastic wrap under the light.

I thought there'd be scotch and a view of the bay,

not counting the pennies I’m throwing away.

The bill on the counter is red as a wound,

and the engine of life is beginning to sound out of tune.

My briefcase is slumped on the passenger floor,

catching the glow from the light by the door.

The low fuel light flickers a bright, orange glare,

mocking the man with the polished-up hair.