Class Crowns

We inherited our destinies same as royalty, our fates passed like crowns from father to son and mother to daughter. We were born to stack and stock and shovel and sweep and handle all that good green that don't belong to us -- born into trailers on dirt roads, into high weeds and dogs on chains, into babies needing diapers and the boy needing shoes for school and bounced checks and bank fees and wondering how we're going to keep the heat on in the dead cold of winter. We were born into blown gaskets and grease under the fingernails, into generic smokes and beer for back pain and toothaches and hustling to make the rent, past due. We were born to age past what's due "the Lord," too -- to use our bodies up too soon and to thump our bibles and hope for better days beyond the clouds where a good man don't take shit from nobody and we trade our Goodwill crowns for golden ones and look lovingly upon those what sprung from us and who will also sell their precious hours to the clock for less than it takes to live on.