Arby's Brenda

Arby's Brenda

I'm not really sure I could live with happy people.
The small, middle aged woman across from me on the bus
wears an Arby's nametag.
Her name is Brenda and she wears the bright,
impossible smile of lonely people everywhere,
that smile that's both an invitation to kindness
and a shield against rejection, a smile much like my own.
I think of all the middle aged people in the world
who work at fast food places and ride the bus home evenings.
I think of small cluttered rooms with black and white TVs
and windows overlooking an alley,
how we never think of pale, middle aged people
who work in fast food places dying of love
or nursing secret ambitions to be president
or fly a jet, be a movie star or write a bestseller.
The truth is (and here's the tragedy)
we never think of these people at all.
In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if it weren't possible
for a person to live out his whole life
without giving a moment's thought
to a single middle aged employee of a fast food place anywhere.
Now tell me this: Is it just me or doesn't it seem to you
that there's something impossibly wrong somewhere?


Albert Huffstickler
May 8, 1992
from Atom Mind magazine
Posted over on Vagabond