Ever Farther Apart

So, somewhere, in their nice suburban houses,
Those fine men and women who had passed
Your cleaning cart and never even noticed it
As they marched to their cubicles, makeshift
Offices have formed, and those fine men
And women now report to them, and they're
Still paid. How much?, you wonder. Many
More times what you were, and these days,
You don't have a job. A janitor can't work from
Home, nor can a waitress or a clerk or someone
Who parks others' cars, but that's okay. If
Things don't change, all those like you will lose
Their homes, and drift, like astronauts untethered,
Ever farther from those men and women
In their comfy capsules in suburbia.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 27 times
Written on 2020-10-14 at 23:28

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