Overheard

•

In the line-up
of men
looking for work.
Work for broken hands
and milky eyes,
payment in eggs
3 for a dollar.

"I don't know where it all went."
This from a shiny-suited raconteur
who in better times cast
paper
that multiplied like loaves
and farm-raised fishes.

They have 3 jobs.
There are 23 of us.
A score of men
will lose.

And the shabby-suited broker
won't shut up
about his chromosome-damaged
daughter Cassandra
and how she knew
it would come to this:
A line-up against
a red-brick wall
waiting
for a siren
or a machine-
gun.