they will tell you how it's going to be.
what they expect; give you the tour.
wherever you go after that,
it will always be the same speech.
you may smile.
you are pleasant.
you want things to work well.
you want to be happy here;you think:
I can be happy here.
I'm good at sharpening pencils
keeping my desk neat.
first weeks you hum to yourself
in the mornings even when it's cold
at the bus stop, drizzling..
you're fresh as new grass in the spring.
you want to smile,
to do anything they give you to do.
then things grow dark a little
but you never get the memo somehow
until you're on the other side of the door again.
it's pleasant on the street even when you're numb
and haven't realized yet you have no income.
spring is in the air; the air is sweet.
at least for now, there's freedom.
and no speech.
mary angela douglas 20 november 2014
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