When was the last time,

you hugged your brother,

you American Capitalistic,

blue-collar or merchant class,

maybe middle-class

Christian you, your brother —

you know the one who

stands in line to get a job,

any job for that matter, or

his sister, your sister,

who stands in line next to

your brother in that same rain

for hours – the two of them

who when they come out

of the rain when their number

is up, and that number is called

with a certain disdain

have to face some faceless,

officious, condescending

bureaucrat who hopes eternally,

because he or she sits

in a dry place in a gray,

aluminum, glass, dry-walled,

soulless room and hasn’t

stood outside in the

cold, November rain that he or

she might, by the grace of the

good, white people’s God,

spend some federally

mandated Christmas break-time

with the senators, representatives,

lobbyists and the billionaires

behind them all at a $500 a

plate holiday fund-raiser

for people who despise people

like your brother, your sister,

the officious bureaucrat

and you, too, old man?