A Half a Tale
She knew she had a story to tell
The words seemed to evade her
Like a song about a harvest for the world
Lyrics and melody in commotion
The pandemic had left her tapped out
All she had was in her large pocketbook
Last week she had sold her old Ford
The living quarters for the three of them
Mary jane is not my name
Double dutch a childhood game
For a quarter and a nickel
You can get a sour pickle
There had been a time long past
When laughter was a daily remedy
Chasing away the daily grievances
Rent money, school fees, insurance
She felt the defenseless pressure
Leaving her senses desolate
Home is where the heart is
But the roof has to be kept
Step on the line
Your mama gets a fine
Take your money back
Fry the spinach black
She waited nervously in line
With her information filled-in form
All she wanted was another chance
A narration to nourish her yearning
There was a highly inebriated man
Yelling in the adjacent line
About what he would do
If he could do what he wanted
Jump up and down
Then do the turn-around
If you ain’t got it
Then it’s time to quit
A baby in a carriage bawling
Children jostling each other
Vying for attention
Which is all anyone wants
Sit in grandma’s rocking chair
Step on a crack if you dare
If you don’t like my baby
Then don’t you say maybe
It was finally her turn
She raised her wrinkled application
Which was greeted by a sullen frown
The testy refusal just a second away
But this time it was different
She was told to go and stand
In an even longer line
She took her request form
Pulled on her heavy handbag strap
And walked quickly to the adjoining line
Her doleful story just had to wait
For another day.
Two for the money
Three for the show
If your mama don’t like it
Then it’s time for your butt to go!
Camille Elaine Thomas
October 20, 2021
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