Friday, August 22, 2014
paycheck
Eyes red, bleeding inside
Like I worked a damn day.
I did. I sat like a squeaky robot
Knees creaky, wrists carping, elbows rusted
joints arranged according to
company policy. Knuckles cracked
on their keyboard, at their labor.
I think that they think that I think that I
walked off the victor, because today is a Friday
and they owed me money. And I got it.
But it’s not the good kind of getting
what you’re owed, like on the big screen,
where you’ve got the Louisville slugger
and the guy has the whimpering fear.
It’s the other kind, the kind where
you wake up sweating about
an empty envelope and
an HR lady who has heard it all
before, heard every idiot
fret out an hour
behind that company grin.
And that is the real question, better
Than “to be or not to be”
Or “am I my brother’s keeper”
Or even “what does it all mean?”
The real question
You ask into the mirror with
Eyes wide and reddening
is
"“What am I going to pay the lawyer with
If they don’t give me my paycheck?”
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