EVERY DAY THAT
I GET BEAT UP
So close I saw the hairs in his face. Those teeth,
like Chiclets chiming. Everyone, it seemed, was
bent on making trouble. The three trucks were
piled up at the curbs. No one could move, no cars
drive around them. Man carries cargo and freight
like sheaves of wheat to a counting office.
'We want more, we want more.'
-
I watched the groaning man talking, threatening:
'I'll call the police if need be; get this stuff out of
here.' Simple solutions were all everyone desired.
-
The light was feeble and the cold was strong. It
was four degrees, and that was mid-day. When
I first ventured out this morning, it read 'zero.'
Such an amazingly fine number; I was proud.
Is it everyday that I get beat up like this?
No comments:
Post a Comment