Says the venerable rich man getting up from the table: “The best fish is the one that got away.” Says the scorned poor man watching his breakfast fry: “Fat men must live on lies.” An aphorism from the Lee side.
Tag: poverty
Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast
This is a repost of yesterday's post. Writelee could not resist adding the word "grubby," which qualifies for the Ragtag word of the day. "Grubby" should have been put into the original. There are a few other edits. Writelee has a discomfort about this sketch and the whole series that began with "I Only go … Continue reading Feeding the Grubs at the Feed-the-Hungry Feast
Payday for a Bum
Grechen counted four fifties, four twenties, and ten ones out of her till, then counted them again, snapping them, quick fast, on the counter. She picked up the bundle, snapped it edge down on the counter to even the edges and put into an envelope and handed the envelope to me. “Five hundred dollars,” she … Continue reading Payday for a Bum
When Daddy Drinks the Laundry
Mother Mary sat quietly in the sunshine across the street from Olivia’s. It did me good to see her in the spring sun. A lot of people were walking past, and Mother sat quietly in the spring sun, her faded blue denim shirt open for the sun on her throat, and her orange and blue … Continue reading When Daddy Drinks the Laundry
I Only Go Because I Need
I looked at the clock on the tower behind the big church, and it was 11:32. It was five hours and twenty-eight minutes until they served at the shelter. I crossed Main and went up 2nd past the fruity tutti bar. Everybody knows me here and just scowl and tell me to move along. They … Continue reading I Only Go Because I Need
I’ll Take Thirty Days Till Spring
“Did you bring his bail,” the girl with bright chartreuse hair said. She grinned. It was a smirk. “No,” “Obviously,” she said. I did not ask her why she bothered to ask the question. She sat on a high stool in a little room. There was a thick glass window between her and me. Her … Continue reading I’ll Take Thirty Days Till Spring
The Reason I Need This Job
In the morning, OM and I walked to O’Maley’s for a job. Mother stayed with Too Many to nurse him along. He had pneumonia. We had enough for maybe two-three days to pay for Too Many’s room at the Tuck Me Inn. Doc Randy said he needed a couple of weeks rest, at least. So … Continue reading The Reason I Need This Job
A Hospital Bed at the Tuck Me Inn
Too Many leaned his hands over the fire barrel. He was shivering. “Jeeze, it’s cold,” he said. A thin sheen of sweat glowed on his face. In this cold that couldn’t be a good thing. “You Ok? Toom,” I said. “Jeeze, it’s cold.” I looked at the clock on the tower behind the church. The … Continue reading A Hospital Bed at the Tuck Me Inn
When a Quartet of Quarters Does Not Answer
A quartet of quarters is a dollar. A dollar does not sing, although the coins ring when you drop them into a vagabond’s fiddle box. And if, under the long shadows and orange light of morning, that vagabond fiddle is joined by a rag-haired guitar, a withered old crone of a cello, and a quavery … Continue reading When a Quartet of Quarters Does Not Answer
I Only go Because I Need
I looked at the clock on the tower behind the big church, and it was 11:32. It was five hours and twenty-eight minutes until they served at the shelter. I crossed Main and went up 2nd past the fruity tutti bar. Everybody knows me here and just scowl and tell me to move along. They … Continue reading I Only go Because I Need
Home of Have, Poems by Lee Robison 