The Jobholder, by David Ignatow
I stand in the rain waiting for my bus
and in the bus I wait for my stop.
I get let off and go to work
where I wait for the day to end
and then go home, waiting for the bus,
of course, and my stop.
And at home I read and wait
for my hour to go to bed
and I wait for the day I can retire
and wait for my turn to die.
“The Jobholder” by David Ignatow, from At My Ease: Uncollected Poems of the Fifties and Sixties.