Monday, August 7, 2017


There's a school get-together this weekend.

Three political groups will drink together,
All for one and one for all, such saints, such friends,
Ready to kiss left, right or the all-weather center,
For a job, a transfer, some deal or development.
You will hear them whisper, "I have a problem, this guy..."
"He can be removed." "Forever...?" "Forever."

They will talk of their secular past
In anonymous black shorts and white shirts.
Notice the smirk, the glint in the eye,
How they waited to display their colour,
The believers, the atheists, the dividers.
Religion, its divisions, sub-divisions,
Origin, connections, who-screwed-who,
Hundred and counting, they knew all the labels.
My label: "Low. Penniless, then and now.
Useless. Not worth the time. Discard."

Families are allowed this time.
They will compare jobs, wives, kids.
"Man, that's an ass." "Hers?" "No, his."
It's serious business. Each one has its use.
The oncologist to the union guy,
The government guy to the corporate guy,
In every country other than Venezuela,
They are there, on call on WhatsApp.
They are the society. They call all the shots.

Forty will gather. Not forty one.
One will sit at home, never on call.

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