Gumboot Jackdaw Knaves
I wish the gumboot jackdaw knaves
sitting behind discarded US government general issue gray-metal desks
scratching various itches and hitching up beige polyester knit pants
in between slugs from semi-crushed cans of never-ending streams of soda
punctuated by occasional guffaws that rattle the large white board
on the wall with figures five months old that startle the clients in the hair salon next door
in the longest, stinkiest stretch of strip mall in the dampest, duskiest suburb in New Jersey
as they thumb through paperwork containing my social security number
and quickly add up my total net worth like the team of seventh graders
learning abacus in Sister Margaret’s class down the street…
For once I wish they’d leave my dreams.
Poet’s Notes ####
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