Receipts Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

Now that it is noticeable,
Kept and protected fantasies...
Have begun to slowly slip away.
Those who purchased their season tickets,
Packaged to guarantee lifetime memberships...
Are shocked to discover,
Expiration dates are coming to end them...
Unexpectedly too quick.

They can not donate them to charity.
Or find those homeless,
Ignored and accustomed to survive on the streets...
Wishing to exchange their 'realities' made to live,
By those who kept their fantasies protected...
With deepened debts credited to pretentiousness.
Since those on the streets,
Have long been witnesses to the adverse effects.

'I had been the last hired but the first fired.
To have my possessions re-possessed.
I bought to know,
A permanent job I got to get.
Right after those 90 days,
I was promised I would pass.
Since my tests to have high scores,
No one else had done that before.
I got a car and drove to New York City,
When I got the news that was not pretty.'

~You?
The homeless talkative one.~

'Jus a sec.
Those people have no respect.
May I help you? '

~Yes.
I'm giving away. And to 'you'...
A lifetime of 'my' paid up fantasies.~

'Oh yeah?
And where are the receipts?
Validating each payment made.
With your final bill stamped paid in full?
And please...
Don't look at me dumbfounded.
It took me years to do it.
Blink your eyes or something.
Close your mouth and breathe.
No one here is that stupid.
As you've been made to believe.'

~I...er...uh...I...~

'It's okay.
You're not the first to approach me.
Or any of us.
With your agonies described as free giveaways.
The moment we noticed your nose,
Was not up in the air...
We were prepared to hear your 'Southern' accent.
And guess what? '

~Uh...uh...what? ~

'I'll give you a dollar,
Which one of us was born in Norway.
And who has parents,
Still regarded as royalty in Africa.'

~I see you all as my brothers and sisters.~

'You must be in some deep, deep, deep debt? '