by Jean Byrne
The
morning’s sunshine reflects on the tables
And
the holiday makers are easily
Separated
from the work goers
I’m
not really sure which I am
My
coffee’s a little too sweet
I
in no way needed this third cigarette
The
interview’s soon and I’m not
Sure
what they want from me
But
surely they won’t give me what I want
Internship,
a likely excuse to exploit
Someone
as desperate as me
The
bizarre situations we find ourselves in
Just
to make a buck
Uncertainty
feeds desperation
We’re
scared and feeling grateful
To
fuckers offering below minimum wage
We’ve
lost it
And
as a wise man once said
Biography:
Jean
Byrne is Irish, from Dublin, but lives in Barcelona. Byrne is a
translator and has been writing for a while but has only recently
started sending work out into the world. Byrne has had some pieces
published on Misfits' Miscellany, Word Riot and Pif Magazine.
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