Monday, July 19, 2010

Working at the "Welfare" Office

the dopers.
the FAS kids.
the just plain muties.
deadbeats, lunatics and foreigners.
people that are thin in all the wrong places.
torn jackets, bad teeth and broken hearts.
children without parents.
parents without their children.
sadness attempting to cling to my eyes in a spotty film.
people carrying weird things.
a big old-fashioned table lamp.
a bag filled with smaller bags.
a couple just married.
I recognize the girl.
ten to one she makes him knock her around.
old and tired.
or pregnant and tired.
or just tired and beaten.
a man sweating out mouthwash chemicals.
seeing too many people I know.
want a drink.
hell of a time to quit.
everyone looks like they're looking for someone they can't find.
some you greet and they reply with a cough.
furrow their brows over forms they can't be expected to understand.
"My mom says you're my legal guardian now because she can't handle me anymore."
a drink.
a drink would be nice.
"Hurry up, fuck! You're so stupid and slow!"
says the mom.
the little girl looks at the bigger one for guidance,
calls her "Auntie".

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