I sit,
and look at the
Gardeners with
Their shovels
And mowers.

the steam cleaners
In their white vans
On their way to scam
Their next victim.

the retail workers
With bags
Underneath
Their eyes,
So tired of waiting
For the last check
of the month,
And the second job they
Have to hold.

The mundane drips
From their open wounds,
And I just hope,
To be more like them.