Laid Off

She’s been unemployed
For two years
Since being laid off
From her long-time job.

On the news,
They keep crowing
About how much better
Things are.

She walks in the door
Of a temp agency
Where she’s greeted
Politely.

A young woman
Asks her to have a seat
At a long table and
Fill out an application.

When she’s done,
She’s told to wait for an
Additional screening
By another staff member.

She goes into a small
Room to take a variety
Of tests to determine
What she can do.

She’s told to call
Early each morning
To check for any jobs
That may be available.

Imagination

Right or wrong,
Good or bad,
Us or them,
Have or have not.

A world of
Stark dualities
Inevitably creating
Winners and losers.

Some notice that
Imagination is
Missing from this
Severe equation:

The ability to
Envision a world
Where everyone
Is able to win.

School Choice

If you had to
Come up with a
Highly effective, and
Fiendishly surreptitious,
Way to destroy
Democracy and make sure
All the money goes
To you and your
Affluent friends, you could,
I suppose, do it by force,
Which leaves a lot of
Bodies and resentment behind,
Or you could gradually
Starve public education,
Perhaps even siphon off
Its funding to other
So-called schools,
To make sure that
The general populace
Gradually, without noticing,
Loses its ability to
Think critically,
Discern what’s really
Happening around them, and
Separate fact from fiction.
The more you weaken
People’s ability to reason,
The sooner you can
Buy another yacht,
Plus you can
Sit back and have
A nice laugh as
People who have far
Less means than you
Passionately defend
What you’ve cleverly
Termed School Choice,
Freedom always sells.

Those Days

Don’t worry ma’am,
It’s just a formality.
What was that?
Oh, yes, it’s a new
Policy, the bill just
Passed in the last
Session. I know,
It’s an inconvenience,
But it’s just the rules.
Everyone has to have
Some kind of identification
To vote. Oh no,
Not at all,
This is nothing like
Those days.
Will that be all?
Next.

Same Answer

She stares at the
Shifting, fuzzy image
Of her husband and
Tells him all the
Mundane but grounding
News about what’s going
On at home, the children
Take turns saying hello,
Too young to realize
What’s really going on.
She asks once again
When he’ll be home and
Gets the same answer.
They sign off with a
Kiss, fingers on
The screen, bit players
In the latest conflict
Lining the pockets of
The usual opportunists.

Never Considered

I can’t say that
I ever thought he’d
Be the same as me
But I must admit that
I never considered
The possibility that
He felt nothing inside,
An animated creature
That behaves only
According to its latest
Whim, whatever it desires
At that particular moment,
With no regard for
Anyone who might be
In the vicinity.

Assemblage

An assemblage of
Caring individuals.
Moms, dads, children,
Brothers, sisters,
Grandmothers, grandfathers,
Aunts, uncles, cousins,
Friends, trades people,
Professors, teachers,
Business owners,
Students, factory workers,
Truckers, public employees,
Pilots, retail workers,
Writers, artists;
Representatives from
Every slice of life,
March down the street
Standing up for the vast
Majority of the citizenry,
An earnest call for greater
Equality, opportunity.
From windows above,
They nudge each other,
Laugh, and shout,
“Get a job!”

In Reality

They no longer talk,
And he concocts
A story that makes
Him look like he
Has no part in the
Conflict when he,
In reality, bears
The brunt of all
His relationship
Failures, a reality
He can’t escape
No matter how hard
He tries.

Without Explanation

He grew up on the
Side of town where
Crumbling dwellings
Were interspersed with
Warehouses and junkyards.

Walking in neighborhoods
Where orderly houses and
Manicured lawns gleamed,
He felt watched;
An object of suspicion.

Someone once alerted the
Police chief to his presence,
That he was surely up to no good.
He spent two days in jail,
Released without explanation.