more the norm than the exception

in this wonderful capitalist rape room

where coming into work can mean

leaving early without a job & a

pink slip, with a pat on the back & a

“thanks for being such a good worker”---

armed with all the facetious nonsense

that emanates from the mouths of

higher-ups, whose jobs are just a little

more secure than your own,

making them bent further over the table

with the drill shoved so deep up inside

them that you couldn’t pull it out with

a fucking forklift,

if you even dared to try.

 

and on the day you come in &

they’ve taken away some of your coworkers,

leaving you “alive” as far as the workforce

goes (for one more day), you feel an odd

sense of guilt & blame, like it should have,

like it could have, like it will be you---

much like on imagines a survivor of a plane

crash sees the deaths of their co-flyers as

a precursor to their own fessing up to

that certainty of mortality,

you close your mouth with a sudden horror---

because these people were your friends,

as far as the workplace is concerned---

you’ve spent hours, weeks & years with

them & their fate has been decided with a

fucking red pen & a greeting at the door

when they were coming in,

because the higher-ups didn’t even have the

goddamned decency to give them a call

prior to the beginning of the work day---

so now, they hang their heads, some cry,

and in the eyes of all of them is a new

terror…a head full of “what am i gonna do?”

adding them to the legions of

america’s growing unemployed---

oh the wonderful “land of the free,”

where you can smile as long as you are

fucking

economically

viable.

 

tomorrow, they go online to file for

unemployment, to start the hardest job that

there is---

looking

for a

job.

 

and you miss them.

and you hope the best for them.

and you know the cards are stacked against them.

and you know neither obama or romney is gonna

fucking help them.

and you go to sleep so you can get up in the morning &

go back to the slaughterhouse,

hoping today isn’t your day (always tense & ready for your

time) &

hoping that wherever they are,

that they are ok.

Views: 5

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