welfare requiem

FJ Doucet

hey, last week we ate nothing but hotdogs for dinner. 

    just hotdogs. not even buns. who has money for buns? my cheque

was late last month because of a mix-up with the welfare. anyway,

    that's all sorted out now. we're doing better. much better. i just

 

bought some apples, oranges, even a bag of frozen vegetables. 

     nothing too fancy, but maybe we can even whip up some little stir-

fries for dinner. who knows, baby. maybe by this time next year

      i might even have a full-time job. we could finally move out 

 

of this shit-hole. send the kids to a better school, away from the 

    juvenile offenders. can you imagine? they could grow up to 

be doctors and lawyers. well, maybe not lawyers, ha ha, 

but you know what i mean. they at least won't be serving coffee 

 

and donuts when they're fifty, which is better than where we're at.  

   so when you really think about it, life's not too bad. there's ups

and downs. even the fancy rich fucks can't deny that. and always remember

what our mothers told us. money can't buy happiness. ha. ha. ha.

About the Author

FJ Doucet was born in Niagara Falls, Canada, and has since lived in Europe, Dubai, and in far northern Canada. Her poetry has been published in a number of online and print sources, including Hamilton Arts and Letters, Ascent Aspirations Publications, and The Lyric, with work forthcoming from Bywords.ca, The Banister anthology, grey borders press, and Candlemark and Gleam press. She is a member of the The Wild Nellies women's creative collective in Toronto.