No News is Good News

Having read the same names in the paper
day after day, having found after six months
of non-reading that the paper looks the same
as when I left off, having found that most
interviews leak top-secret inanities, I wonder
at the drab life the rest of us must lead.
We must feel passed over, neglected, when
we hear of the exciting lives of people who
make or break the laws. I thought it was a
marvellous adventure— truly a miracle—
when our cow had a calf, a small replica
of herself that comes out of her and is
on its feet and sucking in fifteen minutes—
but no news story. When the neighbors gave
a party (really farewell) to Selmer Stout
because he was dying of cancer—no headlines.
(Don’t go away, I’ve almost finished.)
And when the kids in our block taught one
of the cops to jump rope—no headlines.
According to the news life just serves
us ordinary folk one empty plate after another.
And to keep from starving all I’ve got left
is the chance to call a massage parlor
that answers ‘‘outcalls only.’’