District 11

He sits in the corner at the back of the bus

Dreading the cold rain outside

a tv in the corner flashes static

some Political add

isn’t strange everyone wants your vote

everyone says you’re important

but no one cares to get to know you

he’s worked for the District  most of his life

occupying a small apartment

he’s been more or less a shadow used to track down those who leave ….

but who can blame them

he’s getting tired

he’s feeling – feeling


Tonight they’ll cut the power ….for 42 minutes…raid a few buildings

ship off the ones that don’t belong…

those that have fled from less desirable  – harsher – districts

funny how no one seems to miss them when the lights come up

good at what he does

he takes pride in it

if he gets you

it’s as if you were never born

swiped from the system

But tonight here on this mold eaten drafty bus

head resting against the window

he watches the rain beat down this depressing city

he feels old, and very alone

the bus lurches ,  a shift in the gravity

this is his stop

all  the lights go down  as he steps off

pulling  his collar  up against the driving rain

he begins what he does best…..

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