Jorie H.

Her hair is grayish blond

and pouffy

it looks like my grandma’s.

Her purple sweater zips up the front

practical, but not at all flattering.

Her brown velvet pants

went out of style years ago

but fashion doesn’t matter when you’re old.

Circular, silver rimmed glasses

surround her eyes

she is an owl

perched at her practical desk.

“How can I help you?”

Her cheerful voice cannot hide her inner feelings

she hates her job

and with good reason.

The line of people is exhausting

always needing help

never giving thanks

She is there to save the day

and solve any minor crisis that occurs.

She doesn’t seem phased by

the constant chiming and

the annoying announcer’s voice

calling out B725 and C339

“Take a number,” she says.

The people come and go

some smiling, some sad

but there she remains

Her job must be tough

a tiny desk in a crowded room

people talking and shouting

the upside is that she has a cushy, swivel chair

Welcome to the DMV.