Cope

"Energy! Energy... I wanna feel the energy."
Roger, the manager paced the floor, clapping his hands and patting some of us on the back
All the workers at Ocean State Job lot were postioned in a huge circle. In the middle, the managers gave up a pep-talk.
"We need to make 500 items an hour! C'mon team!" One of the other managers shout. I stifle a giggle and look down at my feet.
The circle breaks up... the workers faces are worn. many are hung-over and many are still under the influence.
The druggies seperate and hiss quietly into thier cellphones, scarping for thier fix.
The jocks stroll out on the floor, without a care. People love them so why the fuck would they ever get fired?
The old women all mumble under thier breath and hobble towards thier low-end position.
70 years later and still working a shit job. America the beautiful.
The creepy janitor eyes me up and down. I wore tight pants today.
The thugs grab thier balls and walk to the back door to light up a joint.
I can feel the energy creeping into everyones veins.
The addicts on the phone.
Old women wondering around the store, looking busy.
The thugs getting stoned outside.
Jocks slacking in the Housewares department.

The energy is rising....
I go to the bathroom.
I fiddle with my hair, I pout about my weight.
I make different faces in the mirror.
I curse my skin.
I take a sip of water.... and I am ready.

Outisde of the bathroom, the addicts have thier fix. They can work now, with their pupils wide and speech slurred.
They aimlessly push around carts.
The thugs are stoned.
They sweep the floor, giggling amoungst themselves.
The janitor looks at me.
My pants are very tight.

The jocks are quiet, as they listen to hear the scores of the game.
They push boxes.
The old women clutch thier coffee. smiles slowly spread accross thier faces.
I take a deep breath. I feel empty inside,

Can you feel the energy rise?