Saturday, May 18, 2013

Old Pay Stubs by Jasen Sousa

Old Pay Stubs

"For DZ"

By Jasen Sousa 

Evenings after still frozen dinners

and days before his envelope would be flung

to him like a bone, across a cigarette scarred

wooden break room table, he would stooper in his damp

work clothes.

Boot laces tied tightly around his tender ankles,

socks folded back hair on his legs

in ways it was not meant to be bent,

knees pressed against his pants

like a child's face to a window on a misting Saturday.

There were no dishes to scrape clean, no

trash, but a waste basket filled with wrinkled

receipts that angered him every time

he walked by. 

He remembered it all like he needed

to be back the next morning at 7:00 A.M.

as he slept uncomfortably nude on top

of tucked-in sheets starring at a tie which hung

over the back of a chair swaying like a clock pendulum

from an after midnight May breeze. 

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