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From the American Scene: Joe's Moan
- Abstract
What’s a man? I’ll tell you! A piece of dirt,
that’s what a man is, he’s nothing better than
a piece of dirt! Look at these goddam fingers,
bent, swollen, twisted, mangled, like I’d been
catching knucklers; but I’m no Yogi Berra
(though I once had a tryout with the Dodgers),
only a messed-up hatter on Hinsdale Avenue.
Arthritis, that’s what the doctors say it is,
I only know it’s hell, but they got names,
names and needles, that’s where my money goes,
gold, silver, cortisone, anti-histamine,
I got a drugstore full of junk in me
and more holes than a Swiss cheese. A guinea pig,
that’s me. And if I squeal, they shake their heads
and tell me, Joe, Joe, go to Arizona,
the only place for you is Arizona.
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