on the dole

on the dole,
in line with john
at the low brick building in
Bladensburg.
the cold hands of wind
screaming through
our thin coats, our thin
shirts.
gloveless and hatless
as the line crawled
forward.
bad times
to be out of work.
but we were young. this paltry
sum
of money,
government cheese
would see us through.
give us a log for the fire,
a dozen
eggs and pint
of milk.
we shivered below
our smiles, our jokes.
stamping our feet on the iced
sidewalk,
seeing the old folk
in line
behind us, happy that we
weren't them.
for what did they know now,
about hope.