PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

Job Prospects

By jfarrell

I helped a milkman on his milk-round;

My first job; I must have been about 8;

The milkman, my mum and dad,

Sat in the pub, one night;

Discussing my job prospects.

Dad went home his usual time;

Work in the morning;

“I think your son’s got a great future as a milkman;

Wanna come back to my place and talk about it?”

Well, why not?

An hour later finds me walking home ‘alone’;

Alone means….

Ten yards behind me my younger sister is screaming at mum;

Who is naked.

Because that’s how we got thrown out of the milkman’s house.

The beep-beep “lovely tits” from caveman motorists;

The lights in windows going on;

And faces pressed to the glass;

And the only prayer I can plead

Is “don’t see me, don’t see me”.

Along the main road;

Past the pub we’d left;

Past our school;

Onto our estate;

My sister screaming names I don’t need to mention.

My going to school next day was like a Clint Eastwood western;

Joyful sounds, giggling, kids playing;

I walk into the playground and….

Silence - blessed silence - for all of ten seconds;

Then chants and jeers.

I got bullied a lot at school, still can’t work out why.