Out of a Job

Out of a job again
Cold air cuts through like a knife
Worn out coat
No gloves
Unless I make $60.00 by the 20th of the month
No heat
I walk home
Beggars on the street
Young girls who should be home with their mothers are offering themselves up
All night diners serving cheap food
It's a wonder we all don't get food poisoning
I shuffle past it all
A man calls out to me asking if I want a job
Easy money
I am tempted
I walk on and pray