a film of sweat,
a cut lunch,
somewhere
in my bag.
the sun rises
with beams,
and the warm hug of distant clouds.
i tug at the belly of my tshirt
and air out my sticky, slim body.
a man walks out
of a corner store,
holding a bottle of milk.
he folds a newspaper
under his arm
and walks enthusiastically,
back home -
much to my anger,
and envy.
it's his day off,
i can tell
by the way he walks.
who wears sneakers
this early in the morning?
-hard workers
smart talkers
and show-power-pony-walkers.
i spend everyday
like a funeral
trying to contain and smother
my life to a simple minimum.
fooling myself
into beliving
that this will lead
to an honest life.
that this will pay off
in the end...
that they say
it's impossible
to put a price on a man's life
yet
i do it
everyday.