II
The volunteer had one drop of moisture
clinging to the tip of his nose.
He wore a straw hat.
“How long have you been old?” I asked,
and he said not long.
When I offered him part of my orange,
he told me he had picked them,
ate whole boxes,
and never liked them since.
There was a snake by my foot.
Robert rode his bike
all the way up Mission Canyon
and surprised me
at the admissions desk,
sweaty and wild.

III
I arranged purple and green kale
with frilly edges
in lines on the salad bar
to make it pretty.
I made loops of Jell-o
in racetrack-like molds
by mixing fruity powder with water
in a huge metal bowl
with a metal oar.
On Dang’s day off
a cockroach was found
in a bowl of strawberries.
I was uninvolved.
I drank coffee
when Dang knew how tired I was
when a shift started
at five in the morning.
I cut my thumb with a knife
and was “rushed to the emergency room”
with a white towel turning red.
I cut my fingers
on the device for slicing tomatoes.
I called for Elaine
and bled over the trash can.

IV
I sat in a cubicle
and read out loud
the essays of students
who wanted help.
We refined
thesis statements.
The shifts were two hours.
My boss thought I hated her,
but I was just afraid.
Then I walked to the bus circle
and waited in the rain.

V
Summertime
at Chinese school
meant kids had
Pokemon cards in albums
and seaweed-wrapped
rice crackers.
I drank bo-ba tea
and had a class of four.
“Do you like kids?” one asked,
and I said, “No more than
other kinds of people.”
On my break
I shooed them and smoked.

-

© Some rights reserved. “the most meaningful job of my life” is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial license.

Laura-Marie is a 30-something poet and zinester living in Sacramento, California. She creates Erik and Laura-Marie Magazine and mental health zine functionally ill.
Website: http://dangerouscompassions.blogspot.com