I hate Fridays.

How do I hate thee Friday

Let me count the ways

I hate thee to the depths of

Depravity my clients have

Experiences and the bruises across their faces

I hate thee to the homeless shadows

And the streets and cars they sleep in

Because there are not enough safe places

I hate thee for the calls to the police

For arrest and rest of weeping women

Who are collapsing in hot messes

I hate thee for the bald patches

Forming where I Thursday had full tresses

Oh Friday

You are my prisoner

And a tease

And dirty flirt

What should be a gateway

To the weekend

Is a day that pain perverts

With new born babes

With no cradle or stable

Or stable place to sleep

With frightened mothers

Staring down DCFS orders

Who come to me to weep

Friday is a day

Of desperation

A last chance to ask for an assist

A day of emptied tissue boxes

And redirection

To the referrals that have been missed.

I used to love the weekend

And the day that led thereto

But now I am exhausted

And Friday makes me blue

(Homeless in LA , Sonya Keith 2014)

Today I fed someone l my last bag of M&Ms and Diet Coke as she sucked the hope and happiness out of my day.



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