Posted by: Lisa | March 5, 2014

The Commute

Windshields coated
with ice resist
attempts to clear.
Resort to pouring
lukewarm water.
Chip, dig, scrape, push
broken sheets away.
Huff and puff amid
freezing cold at 5AM.
What must be endured
to reach minimum-
wage paying job.

Rich bastard
kicked back with coffee,
feet on table, watching
rows of brake lights
from picture window.
He smiles, shakes his head:
“Poor suckers.”

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