Dmv

In the parking lot of the DMV I watch the privileged and the not so, come and go. They come in "Beemers" and rattle clank clunkers, desperate to join, or rejoin, the lemming like hordes of autos. So it goes from 8 to 5, tentative migrants and confident suits queuing up, checking and rechecking their papers, hoping that one visit is all that it will take. Some mouths are mouthing, practicing their excuses, as to why they were late, or need more time, addressed to bored clerks, who have heard it all before. All are reduced to a singular oneness, begging for a privilege, without which they feel they will starve. For which they give up their life in ways they can't account for