Ashtrays overflowing. Chains of fine metals.
Small pliers clipping links about new clasps.
Conversation constant, gossip and bad news
The playpen close by, the children watch TV
Dollar for how many? That ain't a lot of cash.
Hours tick by, backs taunt, time for a stretch
Those diapers are dirty, go change the baby.
Feeding time, it's spaghetti again. Poor food.
We're quiet. Too much noise, you get whackt
That hairbrush, she broke it on my backside
The belt is next! Don't make noise, don't cry.
The kids' table, folding TV tray. Bedtime soon
First day of school tomorrow. Got new shoes.
Those chains add up, those dollars got paid.
I swim in loose sneakers, they got christened
The slap when I got home... well, I won't cry.
- Author: darwin ( Offline)
- Published: October 16th, 2024 14:57
- Comment from author about the poem: The 70s in the Jewelry District.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 7
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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