Food Stamps

7 Feb

Food Stamps

There was a woman who
worked at the DHS office.

She struck me as a prettier
version
of a gal I’d
had a fling with
in Toronto.

Just talking to her
put me
in an uncomfortably
shy disposition.

She shared the receptionist
duties
with five other
employees

and I was afraid
that my
obvious attraction
would be apparent
to everyone else.

She was the kind
of woman
that you’d have to
stop on the streets
and tell her
how pretty she
was even
though she’s
probably heard
it a million
times since
the day she
was born.

And really
that was all I
wanted,
was to just tell
her that and get
it out of my
system.

I didn’t
want anything to
come of it.

In fact there
was a chance
I’d be moving
north to
Portland in
less than a month.

Besides there was
a reason I was in that
office,
to get food stamps.

What could
I really say to her
besides that?

“Baby girl
let’s say you and me
take my EBT card
and go back to
my place

I’ll make us some
lobster and salad
and we can fall asleep
on the couch
watching French films
on Netflix.”

Nothing says
sexy like
abusing
the very system
that employs her.

Now THAT’s
being a rebel.

As it was,
something would have
to give.

I was running out
of reasons
to come bother
her
with questions.

Soon I’d have a
job–
I needed one badly–

and unfortunately

that took
precedence
over
everything else.

~Edward Austin Robertson~

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