Polished

Photo by Mathieu Stern on Unsplash

I feel privileged

at the moment random times.

Not when house keepers come

but in the car wash line.

I am grateful to be in this place

but past struggles leave a trace

Why do I get this life -

born inside the border.

While others starve,

I place a door dash order.

Does anyone relate?

Does it seem fair ?

While she polishes mine,

the technician's nails are always bare

(I may change this later on but this was based on brief encounters of the day and figured I’d post to share.)

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