So yesterday I got this piece of mail.
It had a troublesome return address,
Connoting life in penury, or jail:
The envelope said simply, IRS.
I'd known that it was coming. I'd been waiting.
And lately, things have been a little tense.
This flimsy ice upon which I've been skating
May finally break through, a few weeks hence.
I rung up my accountant. He was kind.
He sympathetic'lly suggested calling.
He said "Divorce is tough. You're in a bind.
There's lotsa folks with tragedies befalling."
(I'm not exactly quoting. Just the gist.
But yes, he could have been a therapist.)
Thus heartened, I sat down to work today,
Determined that I'd make the call, first thing!
Of course, a this-and-that got in the way.
By lunch, I'd hardly done a single thing.
But still, I knew I had to make the call.
The hour had come -- The Time to Stand, or Fall.
I dialed the number on the page (toll-free!),
Negotiated menus - just a few -
And then the telephone connected me
With agent 0999152.
(Another friendly, sympathetic ear.
Were there no jobs in social work that year?)
He listened. I described my situation.
Turns out, it's pretty much the same as his.
Unless he has a good imagination,
And uses it to show how nice he is.
We spoke of fiscal year two thousand eight,
And balances, and levies, IRAs,
And penalties for paying way too late.
And I could hear him numbering my days.
But overall, he made this one suggestion,
Since I have yet to file two thousand nine,
Which puts my very life on earth in question:
Just file. We'll work it out. And you'll be fine.
I'd been afraid they'd come to take my spectacles,
My car, an arm, a leg, and maybe testicles.
But 0999152's assurance
(When coupled with his talent for procurance)
Has got me thinking I might just live through it.
I'll file two thousand nine! I will! I'll do it!
I'm not exactly certain how I'll pay.
Tomorrow is, you know, another day.
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Alysa Salzberg
Melissa Miles McCarter
Scarlett Sumac
jlsathre
Matt Paust
Jowita Bydlowska
Salon.com
Comments
(and I hope it all goes well with the taxes and whatnot. And that you retain your spectacles and whatnot.)
you sustain the tight pattern and rhyme without lapsing into doggerel. you make this both amusing and painfully real. it's a "wince" poem.
i have gotten a few of these envelopes...hang in there.
Not the IRS problem.. sigh.. I wish these guys would just go away.
froggy, poet laureate? Are you on the committee? And thank you for the well wishes. I have a feeling there will be a sequel to this, so I'll keep you posted.
cheapbohemian, welcome. I enjoyed your poem the other day. And technically speaking, I am a twice-formerly-married formalist. Not that I'm splitting hairs. And yes, I do take great comfort in iambic pentameter. It really is a magical construct in English.
anna1, thank you for spotting Scarlett. As for the IRS' unreachable heart, unfortunately 0999152 may not answer the phone next time. We'll see how it goes.
rita, thanks. I'll keep you updated as it happens!
Thanks for reading everyone. Goodnight!
I'm sorry about your tax woes. But enjoyed your witty approach to it. Long may IRS waive all penalties and back taxes.
I'd been afraid they'd come to take my spectacles,
My car, an arm, a leg, and maybe testicles.
But 0999152's assurance
(When coupled with his talent for procurance)
The way you added the number made me laugh.