Lateeka’s working, my favorite teller—
she’s got wild nail art & fire red/
feather extensions.
In line: young guy in hi-tops w/ipod,
black blazer girl on her lunch hour.
Lateeka & I always talk hair & makeup,
she’s in school for accounting.
A guy with 20-inch arms in a Hines Ward jersey/
cut off at the sleeves,
a white-haired woman with
a cane & her daughter
—no suits.
Restaurant guy walks up to the window
with a bagful of receipts—
the blonde teller working the line
leaves her post & exits side-door,
so it’s Lateeka & people
roll their eyes & grumble:
Oh great, now there’s only one teller up there.
Steeler guy shakes his head:
Jesus Christ, do you believe this?
Daughter to mother:
Why don’t you sit down?
Blazer girl turns:
I’m late for an appointment.
Steeler guy waves his massive arms wide
like he’s going out for a pass:
Hey, I got an idea—
why don’t we shut this shit down & open up a bank?
We turn to see his arms jabbing the air
like he’s trying to grab it down—
his neck red with rage.
He barrels out the door & we bust into
laughing, the air full with mutiny:
1 new spot open, we inch forward like
fat cattle, clutching our checks
a little less tightly.
We have won for the day,
we are sticking it to the man.
Sticking It to the Man
Did you enjoy the the artible “Sticking It to the Man” from Jan Beatty on OZOFE.COM? Do you know anyone who could enjoy it as much as you do? If so, don't hesitate to share this post to them and your other beloved ones.
Leave a Reply