When you needed the workBut turned it down, had to,So as to qualify for that SSIThat savings account steadyAs a descent, a dive long headBurst of hopeful idea andSang froid dripping from poresAwash with your tummy tuckSay it, the rhyme, simple fuckSeveral of you planted fruitTrees and tomatoes in the backIn planter boxes with drip water.But weary of just getting outOf bed alone anymore, fearingHow much longer this will go on;Pull bones out of beds, dirtyThem with labor and with acheIn the chair at home where youAte, and where you will pass.