Many Vain Attempts At Escape Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

When I arrived in Mike’s under the Stillwell Avenue
subway station I spotted Abie drinking a Bud
two empty cans already on the counter
surprised to see him at eleven in the morning
usually a night person but
perhaps never went home, nor had
he shaven in a few days and now
wore a scraggly beard. I sat
next to him asking, “How you doing
today? ”
“I beat it two times before but now I
don’t know.”
No expression in his voice
like a dim hum from within a distant tunnel.
“I beat the depression two times
before but I don’t
know if I can beat it now.”
“What happened? ”
His voice flat and unemotional
as if there were no longer
any question as to it’s certainty.
“Tomorrow I’m gonna be institutionalized. You
gotta want to help yourself. I don’t
want to help myself. Anyway
it goes back to childhood, it’s an
accumulation. All these years
hiding from life and now life
caught up with me. I got
myself in a box and
there’s no way out.”
Fearing the worst I howled,
“THERE’S ALWAYS A WAY OUT.”
Abie made a motion with his lips, a slight
motion of putting his lips together and
blowing out a bit of air, a
Pfff
which indicated
no hope, or
it didn’t matter, or
why bother, or
so what.