Pay Stub

The inhale and the exhale,
two weeks' respiration
in gasps and wheezes,
debit diseases;
twenty-six Fridays a year circled red,
twenty-six days we can breathe in
without pain;
but then, again:
the bills get scratched in,
need groceries, need gin, the car
still needs gas, credit card's on our ass;
breathing out those long
hours into check-writing prowess -
like air, it runs out; too
soon we've expelled
every penny as breath;
winded, we climb back in the wheel
to run madly again,
tides washing out, oxygen
changed slowly to carbon dioxide
fourteen days left
until we can breathe in.