(October 2, 2012)
I endure the twisting anxiety
quite understandably as I await
the end of the weight within the
waiting room of the gargantuan
entity, Welfare. “Oh, God!”
I climactically scream into my
mind’s ear with my mind’s shrill voice,
“My stomach’s pulling itself out of my
abdomen and forcing its way forwards
as though pushing its way straight ahead
into the future”—into what I’m going
to suffer when my name’s eventually
called for by Welfare. I weight intensely
while waiting the time, the second that
I’m finally called, my presence belatedly
requested; and I follow Welfare down
the myriad corridors (straight, left, right,
right, left, straight) before entering Its
inquisitive office, one with a large number
of Welfare’s clients’ names, ages, addresses,
SINs, employment histories (or lack thereof),
assets, marital statuses, etcetera …
In Its office—desk, walls, filing cabinets,
computer and papers—Welfare cheques
a multitude of informations to ensure that It
has no reason (excuse?) to deny me my “benefits,”
to refuse me “government monies,” taxpayer
dollars …… “Oh, sorry,” Welfare says to me with
tainted crocodile tears and feigned sympathy,
“but you didn’t include your SIN on your check
stub last month. $orry. Next check issue date is
three weeks from now.” Glaring at me, Welfare’s
eyes tell me that I may indeed leave, and I rise to depart.
“Farewell,” Welfare wishes me in closing
the fruitless meeting—one of callous
red tape entangled with apathy and false hopes,
“Farewell … And don’t forget about your
Annual Welfare Review early next month … ”
Frank G Sterle Jr
fgsjrPOEM 