The World has Gone to Electric

Ian MacAllen

I woke this morning to the Electric Slide.
There was cat vomit on the carpet,
and my goldfish was dead.
The Electric Slide resonated throughout my head,
But at least my radio still worked.

It was Tuesday but there were cartoons on the networks
So I couldn't watch the weather.
Breakfast was a flat Coke I left open the night before.
I felt my teeth sticking to my tongue.
And I was late to work.

It didn't matter though,
Because I had been downsized in a corporate power play
Made last night in Hong Kong while I was dreaming.
I walked up to Disney Square and it began to rain.
I didn't have an umbrella and my briefcase was with my secretary.
My ex-secretary.

I stopped at a café for something to eat;
my wallet was in my briefcase;
I had eighty-six cents in my pocket though,
but I dropped a quarter down the sewer grate
and so could have nothing to eat.
I threw the rest into the hand of an old man begging in the rain.

I was walking home in a wet Armani
Towards my apartment complex which to my dismay was burning.
Nothing was left when it was done,
The fireman came down the ladder and said a lamp had shorted out.
I turned to him and said,
"It's Electric."