Crisp blue cotton frames my neck,
Cold blue sky frames the waning
Days, the first soft brown sheddings
Still wet, not crunching, under my feet.
Safely delving into the street
To retrieve a quarter, bright and shiny
Tossed without reason, on pavement grimy
By personages unknown.

The bright red arm, daily raised high
by rough tan envelopes of minimal description
Proves unwanted reminder of past indiscretion
Proves chilling potency of bureaucratization.
I approach, fatigued, watching the sentinel in the sky
Wave at me with apparent glee
His mouth, once opened, could just as
Easily be vile or ambergris.
Today, though, just coupons for me.

Will the train slow my journey? Will the bus, idled at the stop
Exhaling its hot blue refuse in my face.
Tinted eyes of idle passengers, each of them in my place
Tired and weary. I've been there before,
Two duffel bags, one red, blazing westward
On a one-way ticket from disgrace.

Featherlight baggage, of the physical type
Home is wherever I sleep tonight.

A wholesome trek, twenty minutes in duration;
Black pants, too tight, chafe my thighs
In earnest admonition. Libations, of a kind
Chronic and insipid, steal my air, fatigue in tow.
Clouds my mind, now steeled to the prospect
Of eight more shifts in a row.
Oh, how my sore, blistered feet will show
After eight more in a row.

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