Diana Darby ** "I V" ** Intravenous

I'm No Donald Trump

The market is falling!
The market is falling!
I feel like Chicken Little
running from room to room
shaking my head
and wringing my hands
unable to stop it.
Yesterday I was up $1,000.
Today
I’m down $1,200.
My days are about numbers and decimal points
and recommendations from people
I don’t know,
don’t like,
and don’t trust.
Most of them seem to know even less
than I do,
except that they’re on t.v.
claiming to know a lot.
I miss the days of just sitting and writing
and getting a dividend check in the mail.
I didn’t worry about how much money I’d lost
or gained that month,
I just filed the sheet of paper away
and kept working
and somehow I always had enough.
Now I spend entire days in front of the computer
watching red and green numbers like I were watching
a bad made for t.v. movie.
Will it or won’t it?
Should I sell it or keep it?
It’s sick.
It’s like video gambling.
And I can’t stop.
When I’m ahead,
I’m all knowing,
and I’m sure I can triple my net worth in less than a year.
When I’m down,
I see myself ending up with nothing
and having to get a job
at Starbuck’s or Kroger’s.
I’ll be in my seventies sacking groceries
or mixing Lattes,
when all I ever wanted to do was write.
Everything about the market feels like a bad ride
and I want to get off
before I throw up.