The Operators

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A disappearing shadow, a closing door. 

Slow retreating footsteps 

like raindrops in the cement echo. 

Large walls separating emptiness and emptiness.

It could be a week, 

or a month, 

before they're back. 

Then they can: catch up on rent, 

eat a decent meal, buy the kid a toy. 

So they wait by the phone. 

For hours and on until months pass. 

And the rents past due 

and the phone doesn't ring. 

But all they can do is wait. 

'We'll get the call.' 

Parents embarrassed using food stamps. 

Parents hiding from the landlord. 

Kids pretends its alright. 

'Back in a few days.' 

So they wait 

for their words to be right, 

even when they're not. 

The End

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