we're almost there

the application

for a piddly amount
of money

comes back again. sign here, sign
there.

the math is wrong, things
don't add up.

we need an ID number,
a verification

code.

we need a w-2, a w-3.

we need last year, this years

911's 940's.

we need a pint of blood,
three strands
of hair.

your first born.
your weight, your height,
your race,

are you a boy or a girl,
or confused and go by
they?

were you born here,
or did you slip under the wire?

we're almost there.

it's a government thing.
bureaucracy
at it's worse.

no human voice to talk
to.

no loaf haired secretary at a desk
steering you home.

so you apply again.
for the third time,

get on your knees and hope.