Posted: October 29, 2011 in otiose
Tags: , , , ,

“You wouldn’t be doing this if corporate America…”
and the rest washed out in a high pitched monotone.

You have no idea who I am…or why I do this.

You’ve grown your pretty blonde hair longer than you should
and put a sweatband through it
as if you’ve decided to mimic the 60s.

I once stumbled across a picture of my dad looking similar
although, he also sported facial hair
and witnessed what you romanticize while getting high.

The local college students stand outside the capitol building
planning for a holiday they should have grown out of a decade ago
but it’s reinvigorating to add sex and alcohol.
They stand in a huddle, none of them strangers.
They stand with hand scrawled signs telling me that I’m the 99%
but I bet they didn’t bother to look too hard into anyone
they may or may not have voted for a few weeks ago

Going down the party line on the ticket for a sticker.

I guess it’s better than the small mobs that used to accost me
for utilizing any woman’s health clinic.

Four square and a few tweets ago I ran into you
while I was working third shift.
You said you were attending the local community college to become a journalist
and I tried to hide my reaction.

Your hair was short then, and you were drunk.
I hope I never run into you again.


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