Fractions of a Dollar

 
Wake up at 4am. 10hrs later I’m on my way home…if I’m lucky.  Hours blend into days, which blend into months, to years. Every week is a slap in the face. These fractions of a dollar barely adding up  enough to live. Yes it may be worse in other parts of the world, but I’m here, not there. Is it unfortunate that I lack the pseudo optimism that drives the worker ants to serve their queen? Reluctantly I become one of the hive. Just another drone. Working to make the boss rich with my life, the value of my time. Spare a few drops of nectar? Not by choice but by necessity. Lines of cars on the highway, lines of robots through the door, lines of ants down the ant hill. Did someone call an exterminator?