They are not respectful
jobs.
Melissa is a clerk and she says
her legs have been chopped off
from standing when she should be sitting.
Joe works in a shoe shop
and says that he would murder
a shoe
if you could murder a shoe
but you can’t murder a shoe
because he has tried,
taking an ax
to his shoes,
drunk,
chopping with the assurance
of a salesman.
And I work security,
which means that people talk to me
like I’m a cop
with no authority,
which I am,
letting me know
that it’s OK with them
if I commit suicide
as long as my suicide
is a vacation,
as long as it is quiet and behaved,
locked in a corner
where the magazines
rot.
Comments 1
this is a really direct and well conceived well written poem