New poem: WHAT IS HELL?

WHAT IS HELL?

it’s a question

that rents a room

in my mind these days

is Hell a place

like the current

Beverly Center food court

where almost everything

is closed

and you’re the only one

informally dining there

and the elevators don’t work

and the escalator is broken

so you can’t leave the mall

no matter how much you want to

or is it a chain bookstore

where you’re watching

a powerful blowhard poet

declaiming in body language

turned up to 12:

YOU’RE NOT ME

AND YOU NEVER WILL BE

and you can’t leave the store

no matter how much you want to

or is Hell

that part of one’s psyche

repeating this mantra:

if it happened Before,

it will happen Once More,

and you can’t make a move,

atone for sins,

or try anything new

and you can’t leave your house

no matter how much you want to