Scene from the suburbs

they piled into the DSS office
unwanted, unskilled, young
and old, in the grips of
depression deemed necessary
by those supposedly in the know

the loose shirts hiding beer bellies
foundation and mascara hiding age
cultivated stubble denying youth
as arms held babies, hands groping
for security, clutching the filled out forms

telling the familiar tales 
minds turgid, ticking overbut tired
conspiring to bring it to its knees
with devilish demands unfulfilled
"all I want is a job!"

The servants shrug, so helpless
the reins never in their hands,
feeling the pain in the voices,
in the eyes, vibrating mournfully
filling the room with uncertainty

dreams remain undreamt, choked,
crippled in a social still-birth
brought on by a fortnightly rejection slip
the pain most keenly felt inside, here
at the assembly line of resignation

This reserve side comes and goes
changing as the call up comes
to move onto a lesser hell
no longer "them" but "us" - escaping
into the less humiliating insanity
called employment.