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On Being the Hired Help

The Watch Tower Bible and Tract Society
visit 
quite often.
I wear a Marine Corps cap 
and green Wellies.
I must appear 
as hired help.
But I live here,
and have one hundred and eight-two acres
to maintain.

A woman in an ankle length skirt,
skirts my wet dog
to ask,
"Will our future be any better?"

"Lady," I say. "I'm only the hired help."

She smiles,
rushing off
to find the owner.

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