The Rats Wore Starched White Shirts

I work hard. Hard work is all I know. I was poor. I am afraid of being poor. I find my self-worth is attached to my work. Without work what am I worth? I am not a worthy person. I was laid off from the Truck plant and became a shell of a person. The value of me was in my blue-collar job. I was nothing without that job. I am nothing.

The cavern of grey cement buzzing clanging moving now muted made impotent, useless to me now. A trickle became a river down their faces. The tsunami of men so great crushed to pebbles on a forgotten beach. The rats wore starched white shirts to usher in a new world order. I found a vacant shell in my home.

I am a blue-collar worker. Blue-collar workers can’t afford regret that’s for pussies. Work yourself into the ground is what we get. The rich people what do they get? They get Carpe Diem, Joive de vivre, not us. We get the grind.  

I was happy in the factory. I met my now- ex-husband, I made good money, I had vacation time. I was in a union. Where else can you get a job with those kinds of perks? After I was laid off college was my only option. I am not sorry for going to college. But my life has never been as normal as it was when I worked in the factory. 

Our home near the factory was filled with the smell of apple pies and elephants. Our factory smelled of crazy friends beyond the milky-way. A grassy knoll in the front yard beckoned visitors please rest. Kittens brought cinnamon candy love. Cinnamon candy embedded our minds with thoughts of the grassy knoll. 

Empty shells walk the sidewalks lost in a world with no maps. 

Solid lives now effusive smiles beg to see your map. 
The greed-soaked streets filled with pot-holes, no one will fix. 

Ethereal kindness now gone, the fires of hell beckon, come hither my child, there is so much more to see. 

Keep on keepin’ on is my new mantra. It’s either that or I off myself which is really not an option at this young age. Anyway, there are too many fights left in me. My Mom used to call me the little lawyer. My forte was arguing with whoever. I was good at it. I did not seek out arguments, I just ran into a lot of people with bad opinions.  

I am dead now. The pit was dug deep. The rats did not want me back. They were happier taking all the money for themselves. They wanted an end to regulations. They wanted an end to providing a living wage. They wanted an end to equality for all. They wanted an end to feminism. They wanted an end to clean water. They wanted an end to clean air. They wanted an end to unions. They wanted an end to me. They wanted power but most of all they wanted money.