I try and I try
to keep my chin
up.
I tell myself it’ll be
okay and everything will
be fine.
I can get through it
I can do it
I think I can
But that little engine
that could
isn’t interested because
all the railroad workers
are on strike in the hopes
of obtaining a living wage
that won’t keep them trapped
in poverty or servitude
and wind up old toothless
men, crapping on themselves
in shoddy nursing homes,
begging to die.
I’ve got to keep my
chin up. It’s only Wednesday
after all.
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