One Worker's Homicidal Ideations

Merry . . .


THE REST OF IT GOES HERE
One Worker’s Homicidal Ideations
When I think of myself
which is often
I think of myself
as a nice guy
but at work
my thoughts turn to murder
I’m thinkin’ of you old ladies
rattlin’ spoons against your coffee cups
as if this were a wedding reception
but I’m no groom with a bride to kiss
I’m the waiter who’s puzzled by your greed
to keep your sad lives going.
you frown at me and clang for more
your pathetic tiny blue-veined hands
shake before my poised coffee pot
with the impatience of babies
who should’ve never been born
do you trust me bitches
as I begin to pour
hoping to scald your hands,
your heads, your hearts,
out of existence.
how dare you treat a human being
like a pet to be barked at
not all dogs bite when abused
but I do
hey asshole sports fans, white guys in the corner
wearing the “these colors don’t run” t-shirts
my co-worker friend came to me shakin‘,
saying you take ‘em mike--
they called me a nigger
ok ok, I said, placing their 3 cokes and an ice tea
on my tray--
I’ll be your server now I said
one of them said, other guy couldn’t take it huh?
then smiled so smug
I wanted to punt that goddamn smile through
the goalposts of Canada--
Oh Can-a-da . . .
you motherfuckers! I hope they pitch you
into a pile of maple leaves
and set you on fire
I place their drinks on another table
come and get ‘em!
get me your manager, they say
we’ll get you fired
I say, the manager’s a friend of mine, stupid
I’ll meet you out back in twenty minutes
one plus one is two
the customer’s free
the worker’s not
and of course it’s true
we cum in your food
or worse
if you treat us like slaves
and when you fire one of us
or cause one of us to get fired
without good cause
are you surprised
that one of your children dies
like the bum on the street
you don’t care about--
are you that stupid
average slaves quarters in 1860
had more square feet per person
than average studio apartments
in this city in 2008
Hey boss!
you give us a paycheck for this misery
so we can choose our slave quarters
so we can choose our ramen noodles,
our McChickens, our six packs of PBR for $3.99
and you expect us not to want to kill you
are you fuckin’ retarded?
USA! USA! USA!
I’ll work for you bitch
for your manifest destined
bullshit wars against brown people
for your economic machine
for your green-backed heart
for your George Washingtons,
Jeffersons,
Roosevelts,
Clintons,
Bushes
aristocratic not-give-a-shits-
about-the working-poor
U-S-A
U-S-A Today written at a third-grade level
Isn‘t it fun being red white blue
and stupid like everyone else?
Years later a little girl
screams at my raised bottle of mayonnaise
I said mustard
how cute her white communion dress will be
with fuck you scrawled
in mustard across the place
where one day her haughty tits will be
saying it’s not her fault but her parents
or society’s is a cop out
it’s their fault too
but she said it, she’s already a bad person,
she is who she is
in the cool vengeance of the now
I’ll break her neck in half like a sandwich,
relish the tender loins of her hate, belch
then scratch myself
If I don’t stop her who will?
is it wrong to want to kill the children who will
assume positions in this edifice of the vicious?
This attitude can’t be healthy
I’ll try to get over it
but it’s my experience of work,
23 years, 2 and a half million minutes
it’s my experience of being unfree.
otherwise I’m a nice guy
ask my friends,
ask me on a day off