Dispatch Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Dispatch

He was a dispatcher
And I, an officer…
Both were on duty.

Being night, less flights
We spoke our hearts out
He told me: “am addict.”

I was too angry…
Felt Jesus; prophet
Sat giving him advice.

It was then that I saw
Oppressed; unequal
Can become criminal.

“My pay is…” he said and
“My rent is…” he went on
“Mom is old, have sister…”

At the end: “take drug to forget.”
What could I, do or say?