![]() Tuesday morningA Poem by Marie AnzaloneI walk down the street carrying the things I need to do my work knowing, any moment someone might attack me wanting the black market value of what I carry in cheap bags, not caring, I literally need these things to survive. I walk, observe everyone- watch for people who are watching me a little too intently, like a robber casing a house looking for its weaknesses; I note vehicles that pass too many times. I map alternative routes I watch the street for loose rocks and chunks of concrete some aerodynamic, some that fit in the hand. I always know how many seconds it will take to reach my weapon and how many minutes to a place where they will take me in if I knock on a door. I walk like this because I am poor, in a system designed to assure, I will never not be poor. The world has a way of teaching you your place and cutting you if you reach beyond it. I cannot afford a taxi today. The prices of everything have gone up, and they always find excuses to pay me less. Always less. I should not own a laptop, but I do. I need it to work. I also need to be out of my home sometimes. It is not night. I am not dressed provocatively. I do not have expensive bags or designer shoes. I am not drunk, or high. It is not a holiday, there are no more strangers here than normal. I am just walking to work, my work, not someone else’s and it is simply any Tuesday morning here in my city and I walk as fast as I can because I know any day I do not, may be my last. © 2022 Marie AnzaloneFeatured Review
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2 Reviews Added on August 17, 2022 Last Updated on August 17, 2022 AuthorMarie AnzaloneXecaracoj, Quetzaltenango, GuatemalaAboutBilingual (English and Spanish) poet, essayist, novelist, grant writer, editor, and technical writer working in Central America. "A poet's work is to name the unnameable, to point at frauds, to ta.. more..Writing
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