on the dole

i remember standing in

line outside the low

brick  building

in bladensburg,

with a borrowed coat

on. my gloveless

hands dug deep into

the pockets of my painter's

pants.

my friend

john beside me,

his black beard full of frost,

waiting for our

turn in the unemployment

office.

both of us

on the dole through no

fault of our own.

the work run out.

we stamped

our feet.

in the increasing snow.

but strangely 

unlike so many in

line,

we didn't mind.

we were unworried.

we felt we had a long life

to go.