I want to share this poem I found on the blog bathrobetransmissions. I thought it beautifully expressed the schizophrenic feeling of being on food stamps. My thanks to the author.
WE STAYED AWAKE
It could have been any nighttime
It could have been any season, in any
midwestern midsized town, but
We should have been sleeping,
we’re both so responsible.
We were giddy, though.
We stayed awake talking
provoked over plenty,
like third world refugees;
we hailed from the towards-the-bottom portion
of discount dented groceries and fruit about to over-ripen.
Two too-idealistic not-kids
giddy, sleep foregoing
making spectacles of our responsibility
while we giggled and plotted
at the newly accessible grocer’s shelves.
Our eyes lustrous in the dark,
we conspired to dream
of pastrami and provolone,
of plums, kumquats, and radicchio,
lasagna with fresh mozzarella,
and being well-fed.
The U.S. government can placate us poor so easily with food stamps.
We have so much. Why does this break my heart?
December 7, 2011
revised January 27, 2012
via we stayed awake.