newborn
in the paper route days
i had this one house
i always tried to collect from to no avail
they’d just had a baby
there were notes on the door
about not knocking, not ringing the bell
they hadn’t paid me in months for the morning paper
and because of those people
the thirteen year-old in me
was missing out on baseball cards
cassette tapes, gum and soda
magazines that had pictures teen starlets
that i was starting to fantasize about when alone
on saturday deliveries
when i didn’t have to be up before the sun
sometimes i’d catch the husband outside
drinking coffee
he’d take his paper
but would never say a word about what he owed me
you added three or four more homes like that
and some weeks it was like i was doing the job for free
after a few more weeks i decided
that i finally had enough of the newborn
i ignored the signs and warnings
and began pounding on the door one afternoon
my mind caught up in slices of pizza
french fries at mcdonald’s
about the money that i was owed for my troubles
and even though i expected it
i was pulled out of my revelry
by a baby’s wail and by shouting and cursing
the father opening the door
with his face red and his eyes about to explode
pointing like a silent film star at his notes
but i just held up my collection pad
and waited for him to fish out
the twenty bucks he owed me
fingering the green
as he slammed the door
moving down the block not giving a damn
because i was starting to learn
how america really worked.
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