A poem.

when i’m on the clock,

i’ll talk back to a manager
no problem,
if i think it’ll get me anywhere

or not in trouble
or teased by female staff


but i won’t tell the guy
sitting in my reserved seat at the
movie theatre to
move over
please.

some words are too much trouble
for too little reward,
save my father and i getting
what we paid for.

he won’t say anything either.

//wd 12.20.2025

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