POETRY CORNER (by Martin H.)
THE QUEUE
I´ve got my ticket;
“What´s your number?”
“G51.”
“Mine is G29”
“I´m before you then.”
Wait
Other men come
(Homelessness: It´s nearly always a male issue)
Ask the same question
After a while
I don´t even bother to answer;
Show them my ticket number.
We shuffle.
Forewards or backwards
Depending on out ticket position.
We wait.
Old friends shake hands,
Make polite conversation.
Like zombies,
Most of us
Stare blankly ahead.
Waiting.
Finally,
The queue begins to move!
One hundred or more
Hungry mouths
(Hungry souls)
Waiting patiently,
For a little nourishment
To keep
Body and soul
From falling
Apart.
