Archive
05/05/09 - (1)
Economic Homeless
Until a few months ago, or so it seems, When I joined the ranks of the "economic homeless" (Those of us who've been laid off from our blue-collar jobs — Automobiles, construction, machine shops — As distinguished from the "chronic homeless," Who struggle with mental illness, drugs, alcohol), I thought to myself, This is just a temporary situation.
But now it's been more than six months Since I've been living in this tent city in St. Petersburg, And I can't get a job, to save me — Not at factories, not at Wal-Mart, Taco Bell, car washes — And I'm beginning to get scared. Thank God for Catholic Charities, which provides me shelter — Me and another 250 down-on-our-luck Americans.
I used to think my last refuge was my Chevy Malibu. It was my Budget 8 Motel, till I got here. When not looking for work, I sometimes just ride the bus. It helps me pass the time. Or I do laundry, play Monopoly, Watch TV, in the communal tent. Every Friday, I sell my plasma, for forty-five bucks. I can't sleep, for the armadillos burrowing under my tent.
Two years ago, I had a house in Detroit, a GM job, Making fifty grand a year. Now, I'm wearing donated clothes, Relying on food provided by churches, caring souls. Like I said, I'm scared. What if I never find work? All I need is just enough to have my own place, Buy my own food, afford my own clothes. That's not asking too much of the American Dream, is it?
05/05/09 - (1)
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