James Tate's poetry and literary significance

¶ … Life Well Livid

The mouth kept moving but the words that came out heard themselves and were embarrassed by the nature of things while me and the other primates watched the clock anxiously anticipating the bell.

And there off! The boy with bad skin has the lead with the little girl with the yellow curls right behind.

Here comes the Savior on the outside!

But hedonist cuts him off and they all squeeze out the door in a massive birth of new found freedom only to find its time to get a job working for a mouth that keeps spewing words that mean nothing until payday.

Payday, the sincerest of days when everything appears worthwhile until your card has been rejected day, and one must ask the toad for more green because unlike love it's what really makes the world go round until your stomach starts to turn and you regurgitate the macaroni and cheese she gave you for breakfast in your pipe dreams.

Then your pipe dreams are shattered by the high def reality that virtually is real and the mirage that sucks you dry in pursuit of the next pipe dream. Then you find yourself turning to face a whimpering dog in the mirror yearning at the hydrant of life, begging for just one more chance at the American pipe dream.

But alas it is getting late. So you breed with the other homosapiens and hope that none of this is all too real and that maybe you'll wake up before it's too late, but not at 3 am for the feeding of the Adorable One because all this pursuit of happiness is exhausting and one needs ones rest.