I hope I never go back
Knowing I will have to anyway
It smelled like a welfare office
Like stale *** smoke
Like old cigarette butts
Like mildew stained clothes
It was a “scent free zone”
So said the sign on the wall
But I’m telling you
There was a lot of scent in there
For a place not meant to stink
Probably because it was
After all, a welfare office
Where you take your number
Off the roll at the door
While bureaucrats take their time
Wait till you can’t sit
To have them tell you
“The forms are all online.
You apply on the computer.
There’s nothing I can do.”
At one time, it was an insult
To tell someone their job
Could be replaced by a computer
But now it’s happening
It’s no longer a ridiculous statement
It’s not even funny anymore
That the livelihood of humans
Depends on machines
The days they call you to their desk
To tell you - you have a cheque
Those are the good days
When the sun holds still awhile
To let you feel its warmth
A short-lived sigh of relief
That’s as good as it gets
When the people who hold
Every dollar you own
Are loyally subject to machines
You’re on a fixed income
As the saying goes
But too small an income to ‘fix’ jack all
You can swallow your pride
But the guilt keeps coming back
I must have looked terrified
In the security camera footage
Life is a garden
But it smells
like a welfare office