Wiping down tables
and sweeping the floors
then emptying the bins
for an encore.
Trying to look as if you’re happy
in your position
but after three years of college
you never foresaw this situation.
Rising at five o’clock to catch
a lift to the motorway services,
to spend another day
the subject of peoples prejudices,
They look down on you
as you clean up their dirt
while thinking what you do
is not of any worth.
You tell yourself
that things will get better
and maybe next year
you can move out of that bedsitter.
One of those job applications
will bear fruit
and instead of this gaudy uniform
you will go to work in a suit.
You look at your older colleagues
and wonder did they have a dream,
or were they too afraid
to swim against the stream.
Maybe they can switch off
when they get home,
drinking a glass of wine
as they soak in a bath full of foam.
While you go to bed with
a feeling of nausea about tomorrow,
knowing at the motorway services
you will be held incommunicado.
