A poem written by Paula Golden, a mother of three.
Do you happen to know what day it is?
I can’t seem to remember what I did.
Come chill in my lair and vape on my pipe.
I smoke weed and don’t worry about life.
You need to do what? With who and where?
Dude, don’t go. I need you here.
My parents asked me to job hunt with you.
But I had a few things I needed to do.
Like skate at the skate park.
See some guys to drink beer.
I know that it’s bad for me.
But just come hang and be near.
I hate to see you moving forward.
Come smoke a joint, laugh and loiter.
Yeah, I know I need to look for a job.
But with free food and a bed.
I live high on the hog.
So you are going to school?
What a waste of time.
I am not doing school.
I‘ll find a job and be fine.
Wow! They do drug test.
And they care how I dress.
Can’t I just get a job?
And not conform like the rest.
I am willing to work, but on my own time.
I won’t apply in person, I’ll apply on-line.
What?! My phone is off, stupid bill I can’t pay.
I don’t have money, much less a job for today.
My parents won’t help, they just can’t see.
So be a good friend - hit rock bottom with me.
Why, you ask? I don’t want to do it alone.
Soon, very soon, I will not have a home.
My parents are ready to kick me out.
They gave me time, but I chose the long route.
They gave me four choices, I did not like one:
“School, work, military or a homeless son.”
I can’t believe they’d do it - but they did it, you see.
So, be a good friend - hit rock bottom with me.
Okay, so you won’t, you have a job and a ride.
Fine. I’ll just be homeless, beg and steal to survive.
I never thought I’d be homeless in jail.
The family I had won’t even post bail.
Are you smoking, drinking, jobless and free?
Don’t be fooled, you hit rock bottom with me.