nine thousand nine hundred ninety nine days
and hardly anything of note to show for it, can only hear the disapproving sigh of two thousand two hundred nine saying he thought for sure you’d be an engineer (trains, not buildings) while four thousand six hundred twenty four, petulant as always, can’t fucking believe you aren’t married yet, god that’s just like you, and at least five thousand one hundred eighty four is glad it seems the mayans were wrong thank god but eight thousand eight hundred thirty six cuts deepest with a damn bitch you live like this, he really needs to log off more but those were unprecedented times so surely he deserves a little grace, and anyways he doesn’t even know what mutual funds are the sorry lad, can’t appreciate that you raised the cash to put his parents six feet under (dad twenty one thousand three hundred sixteen and mom twenty two thousand five hundred, but who’s counting) you told them so yourself, a respectable send-off and change to spare worriers the both of them not hard to see where you got it, but what no one told you is that the worrying’s all abstract til you’re pacing the ward waiting out the ectomy and suddenly you’re filthy stinking rich with time diving in scrooge mcduck and drowning in it, and sure disaster might be a bit of a wallflower as far as the calendar is concerned and your works may not move ye mighty to despair or even resigned acceptance, but you’ve taken trains to Kalamazoo and gently sown love into a dozen hearts to gorge on the fruit. Perhaps tomorrow you’ll sit and have a pomegranate with lunch.
Zachary Lorico Hertz
Zachary Lorico Hertz (he/him) is a Filipino writer originally from Chicago, Illinois. His poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in Eulogy Press and Yearling. He lives in Berkeley, California where he is pursuing a Ph.D. and is on good terms with the local cat population. You can find him online @zacharylhertz or read more of his work at zacharylhertz.github.io.