egg salad sandwiches from Tim Hortons
in the red truck I borrowed from my boss
that will be lunch for us today, for me and my boyfriend
our lunch hour is 30 minutes and we drive quickly as we eat--
we have to run home to let the chickens out--
we talk about the things we want and how
money is tight for now, but things will be fine
and where we want to live, to raise kids (one day)
we'll collect the eggs after work
we work at the same place
me in the office typing and faxing
and him in the yard
building things and cutting lumber
nights I waitress for extra cash
in a dingy country-style restaurant with
brown formica tables and cowboy regulars
(I feel like my intelligence is wasted there
and I want to paint and have friends who smoke
black cigarettes and wear fluvogs and
paint angsty paintings, talk about Edie Sedgwick and
modernism postmodernism unmodernism)
but for now everything is simple
in a white-trashy way
trying to build a pretty little future
and liking the sweet earthy taste
of hope
