you know nothing

my boss

in my brief office days was

a tiny man

from Viet Nam.

Su Bao

was his name.

he had war wounds

all over him, scars

all over his

body.

one arm was nearly

useless.

his hand folded together

like a vise.

he used to yell at me

if i made a mistake,

which was quite often,

he'd yell loudly

so that the whole office

could hear him.

you know nothing,

you're stupid.

you know nothing.

he'd repeat this over and over.

screaming

at the top of his cigarette

filled lungs,

and stamp his

brown shoes with his clip

on tie

flopping around.

part of me wanted to smack

him across the head

with a keyboard,

and the other half

of me wanted to hug

him. and talk softly

to him, to have him tell

me all about it.

i can't imagine what he

went through,

but he was right.

i knew

absolutely nothing.