The General Assistance Man

his glasses are too tight
and he barks as the moon
would bark at dogs
he goes over Jo's paper
work looking for errors
a tight frown reserved
for death masks
it is humiliating to be here
she begins to cry
Jo asks a question as
a prisoner of war would

outside the rain has caused
a school bus and semi
to collide in the intersection
what more omens do we need

Let me see your SSI
application and ID
no please or may I
just hard eyes magnified
by narrow glasses
his voice a wire
producing sparks

his office sparse
bottleneck narrow
I think Dante never knew
this place but he'd
have recognized it

the walls are a smooth white
factory chute for souls

I am Jo's lover
her friend some
one who cares

to the county I am her landlord
she an account a set of numbers

I hold Jo close as she cries
this cruel small frame man sighs
reaches under his desk
produces a box of tissues
and the inquisition continues
you have not completed
your food stamps application
he thumbs the twenty plus pages
Jo explains her fear of forms
how it's common with bipolars
are you going to finish them now
she has questions she needs help
a pause of air conditioned noise
he drops the forms into the trash can
judgmental head shaking
his face never changes
a devil's mask of stone
a devil's fire behind the eye slits

return tomorrow for orientation
never actually looking at Jo
who is still crying

expect a check in a few days
he says to me
hell burning in his dark eyes
as more fire sirens arrive outside

Dancing Bear is of Chippewa and Swedish ancestry. He lives in San Jose, California. His peoms have been published in many journals and magazines including New York Quarterly, Zuzu's Petals Quarterly, Slipstream, Poetry Motel, and The Rio Grande Review. He is the editor of several books and chapbooks. His latest chapbook is Disjointed Constellations.