Letter to the Bank #51

Dear BM,

I’ve been attempting to write haikus of late though not in their strictest form. They are pop haikus, westernized impoverishments of a transcendent form.

In a World That Shoots its own Foot
There’s a hand I often see
That likes to point at me.
Paralyzed from the shin bone up
I gawk at the passers by

My mind feels like a spiral cooked ham these days, hurtling inward to the core, soon to be turned into soup. All I wish to do is turn my protracted whine into an oratorio, convert my confusion into clarity. The desire to share the fruits of my labor with the world is overwhelming but who wants wrinkled skins, and mushy texture, spotting and bruises? It would be nice to share excitement for a change, the thrill of travel, of making new discoveries, the joy of painting.

Why do I keep addressing these letters to you, my friend? Because it seems to me essential that you, more than most, must come to your senses. I’m hoping you will finally grasp the extent of the havoc you have unleashed on this ravaged world.

I’ve always had an angry bent I suppose but mostly have always been regarded as an optimist by nature, not all dark and bent out of shape. That is the awful power of debt—it turns you into gnarly roots and vines. I’ve become an ancient olive tree in the past few years but you wouldn’t want to make oil out of my olives, no siree! Debt crushes the life out of a person. Lack of financial health is more damaging to one’s physical health than lack of exercise! You are positively no help. I can’t trust you any more or any of your ilk. Money experts are expert at making money, but not at helping people manage their own. If people do manage their money well, the experts, I suppose, make less? Is that how it works? I thought if you helped me and I did better then so did you.That is how naive I have been for all these years.

I suppose I keep writing to you out of that optimism I mentioned, that part of me that strains to comprehend, or rather find, the heart in you.

Sincerely,

Art Witherkay

PS_Here is another haiku for you:

We are the bankers’ wet dream
All that we earn they get
For a job poorly done
To maintain good credit
And a debt that will never
Ever diminish