DRESS CODE > POETRY
I sit in the picnic park,
lunch break from the working day.
My uniform from my zoo job
crisp khaki from gift-shop safari.
Sport-utility vehicles flank my Corolla,
absorbing the sun with their noon-time mass.
Blond children burst from Explorer’s doors,
trekking across plastic playground
towards a serpentine tunnel slide.
I eat my sandwich, chomp on cold cuts,
smile and nod to younger mothers
at a different table.
“Bill—Bob—Ben—got his promotion last month”,
say the moms, sipping Snapple, watching the kids climb higher.
“The vacation to Colorado—Connecticut—Cape Cod—was superb.
Oh, Ashley—Alicia—Allison—don’t tear your Oshkosh
On rusty public swings.
Sorry girls, it’s just the stress
from the remodeling,
the workers are taking longer
then I imagine a job could take.”
They remain animated in parallel conversations.
I get up, crumble wax paper,
pack my recyclable drink bottle
in my Arctic Cooler bag.
I pull my car from between trendier shadows,
drive back to the working world.
Later, I enter my apartment door.
Later still, after clients—children—clothes washing—
I sit at my table
seething silent stanzas,
aimed at blank paper,
like lawn darts landing
in suburban backyards.
Diane Funston is currently retired from working with adults with developmental disabilities and at-risk elementary school children. Diane’s former occupation, was working in the gift shop of a zoo as a retail salesperson and cashier, she also worked in a cafeteria while in college Diane grew up in Rochester, New York and has lived in California for almost 30 years. She has been published in San Diego Poetry Annual, Lake Affect, Tule Review, F(r)iction, Whirlwind, and other publications. Her chapbook, “Over the Falls” was published by Foothills Publishing in 2022. She enjoys gardening, making mosaics, and her family, including two dogs.