Inspired by a day job experience.
Once a month, I dread your razor
in my receiver.
I don’t need to know your name.
You announce it.
You assume I’m Filipino or Indian,
a brown bandit
Come to steal society, security, your
sanctity of medicine.
I can’t connect you unless I know you
but you’re undone,
A child’s exercise book, incomplete,
Veruca Salt appalled
Some answering service peon should
grovel for your name.
I don’t grovel. I tense my tongue and
tend the gates.
You quit playing Mexican standoff.
You wish to end me with a red X,