Lives in California's Central Valley and is interested in social issues.
The entrance to Oildale, CA
I pull up past the car wash talkers
holding up signs and a photograph of a child.
Two of them are shaking rags in circles
as if they are trying to defy the laws of gravity
a young female
struggles to break the sound barrier
with her cacophony of
donations donations donations.
I feel the change jingle in my pocket as I
park in front of the mobile sign shop
next to the glass door and
with white blinds
I walk into the back and talk to the woman
who reminds me of the pictures of
Appalachian folks I saw in grammar school
when i lived on the east coast
of the United States
and know that although she probably
never saw the eastern mountain ranges
she is of the same breed.
As well as the other denizens in
the darkly lit room
most sitting in front of computer terminals
none of them typing.
She slips me a piece of paper and gives me a
look i know well
and I glance around for a seat in the dark room
a few sounds like a video arcade
Can you smoke in here
NO says the woman who was behind the counter
and is now standing
in the middle of the room
doing her rounds
and then she pauses
says quietly again
Two women are sitting in the same chair
someone brings a dog in
and it sniffs the floor
walks under the rolling chairs
another voice speaks
to no one in particular
hes a cop.
I think he's a cop.
© 2019 Fin
Luis G Asuncion from City of San Jose Del Monte, Bulacan, Philippines on November 22, 2019:
Nice poem. I love it. The construction of the poem and all of it. Thanks for sharing.