Signs/2
There’s a sign on the A&P door that tells you that you belong here.
It says WE ACCEPT FOOD STAMPS.
That sign doesn’t mean, you learn, that the clerk
won’t look at you with contempt.
You learn that you can get FOOD STAMPS,
but because you’re young, her look says,
too young to be buying baby food, the clerk probably judges you to be
on JUVENILE PROBATION, and she’s partly right.
You’ve walked through that door,
the one marked JUVENILE PROBATION,
but you’re over eighteen now, so she can stuff it.
You’re not even on ADULT PROBATION – yet. You saw your P.O.
for the last time more than a month ago.
Things are different now.
You are doing your best to JUST SAY NO to drugs.
You produce your ID for the pack of Dorals. Your not a MINOR
when it comes to cigarettes anymore.
You want to find Rocky, because your ID doesn’t work yet
at the place with the ROLLING ROCK sign in the window.
It will soon, but until then, Rocky will help.
It’s only beer, and besides, he wouldn’t say no,
or you wouldn’t let him see little Rocky.
You’d go to DOMESTIC RELATIONS, and then he’d pay and pay.
Oh, what’s the use? Rocky’s not around,
and you can JUST SAY NO tomorrow.
There are places without signs,
and that’s where you feel most comfortable.
That’s what they do. They offer comfort.
Like the door with the boards covering up the place
where the window glass used to be.
There are no instructions, but you’ve learned.
You knock three times: once, then pause, then twice more, fast.
The door opens, and you go inside. Little Rocky wiggles on your hip.
You pull out your FOOD STAMPS, and you calculate.
Eighty dollars in FOOD STAMPS for a twenty dollar bag.
Well, you got enough baby food for Little Rocky,
so you can do it. The welfare checks will be coming soon.
Besides, his formula is bought at places that have WIC PROGRAM...