Poem: Yelp

Yelp

Are you really mad
at the desk guy at
the Holiday Inn?
Do you really think
your ninety dollars
entitled you to
a flawless stay where
the decor is fresh,
the bedding is new,
and the pool’s never
closed for maintenance?
The English muffins
are dry and you think,
“Yelp will hear of this!”
Could it be that your
anger is misplaced?
Who should really be
taking care of you?
Perhaps you’re feeling
forsaken by God
because of that bout
with colon cancer,
or because your boss
just doesn’t like you?
Maybe it’s because
your dad was always
licking his own wounds
and he never showed you
how to throw a ball? 
Is all of Yelp and
every review site
little more than a
version of that plea,
“My Father, why hast
thou forsaken me?”

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