The Longest Line
From my ongoing autobiography
Bakersfield Blood/ A wine squeezed from the Grapes of Wrath
Standing in line;
like the people I saw at the gate to the fair; like the ones we saw outside the circus.
We huddle close, waiting our turn.
Standing in line;
like the people at the ticket window of the movie theater; like the kids waiting to see Santa;
grandma holding my hand, momma holding little sisters.
Standing in line;
in the baking sun, in the drizzling rain, in the numbing cold;
waiting our turn:
Commodity day.
We've finally rounded the corner, and from far back in the line,
a line longer than any other,
I see the other families carrying their boxes:
beans, cheese, oily peanut butter in plain tin cans.
As far as quality; it was the lowest of the low,
but it wasn't the flavor that mattered then;
it was the anticipation of a full belly.
Standing in line;
I watch as cars drive past,
and children's faces press against the windows...staring.
Their expressions a mirror image of those at the zoo
that I saw staring at the wolf in his cage.
"What a weary time those years were-- to have the desire and the need to live but not the ability."
~Charles Bukowski~