2009

All that winter we waited for the ax to fall,
but it never did.  
 
We kept our jobs.  
 
We'd meet up in the evening, exhausted,  
and eat entrees from the dollar store while the TV  
sputtered stories of layoffs and foreclosures  
and food pantries overrun
and homeless shelters overflowing  
and families sleeping in cars,  
going nowhere.  
 
We knew we were among the elite,  
having somehow been chosen from  
millions of dispensable American workers  
to continue to earn our bread  
while so many scrambled for just enough  
to feed their families.  
 
We hated those jobs  
but dared not speak it  
lest we tempt fate  
and bring the wrath of God down  
on our silly, ungrateful asses.  
We did whatever the bosses asked  
without complaint.  
Unpaid overtime.  
Using our own cars to make deliveries.  
Skipping lunch but not getting paid for the half hour.  
It occurred to me that we no longer held any cards at all --    
that while we were free to walk out  
there were thousands of desperadoes waiting to take the jobs we might give up  
over such a silly, intangible things as pride.