I lived today in a scrap of a poem

I sat at my boss's desk seperating enrollment forms from ABC Property Management.

Sometimes these applications get to me. When they are filled out by someone who knows how to write like it aint no thing and then signed by JUAN or FLOR or SAMUEL printed like a child because their name is the only thing they know how to write.

It was this type of application, where the employee wrote so carefully, "handy man" and then the HR Director crossed it out so cruely with her non chalant handwriting and scribbled neatly in "Maintenance Tech"

At least he will soon have insurance, pending the binder check, re-running the qoute based in total apps recieved, and the accuracy of my fingers typing and retyping the the rates for the HMOs, PPOs, and OOA PPOs.

There was more poetry.

Bad verses with strangers extending their tongues at me and friend while crossing the street and then extending invitations that were merely on four letter word. I crossed out this verse with a prayer.

Then a woman on stange and kids and rappers sang poetry into my heart that I cried.