Issue
#3

May
2009 

a poem by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

MOOD CHANGES

The unhappy worker
takes his mood to the streets
and lets his unhappiness die
and disappear. He walks
and walks until his mood
changes and he is himself
again. He almost gets high
on bus fumes. He returns
to work calm and full of dust.
He walks through the door
and begins to work. He
thinks, fuck all of this. He
works for the money like
all of the workers. No
one dreams here. His face
muscles relax. He thinks to
himself, I will not die here.
He will rest in peace elsewhere.
His value is elsewhere.
At home he is his own boss.
His few friends include
an old typewriter and his radio.
If they did not exist,
perhaps he would be dead.

© Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

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