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Kayla Gonzales

 

So much depends upon my career.

My lifelong happiness,

The future family I create,

My role in the exploitation of the working class. 

Without a strong path, I’m screwed.

Forced to survive on minimum wage,

Constantly clipping coupons,

Fishing quarters from the wishing well.

No prospects mean I’m thirty and live with my parents,

Fussing over the communal remote control,

Consuming the same tired meals from childhood,

Listening to their neverending bickering.

Having a career means success,

If not famous, then at least known and respected,

Locked in with my computer and a six-figure salary,

Picking the five-star restaurant for my next meal.

With a consistent paycheck, my fears will diminish.

No car breaking down on the side of the road,

Refilling the last of the soap bottle with water,

Selling the family heirlooms to the pawn shop.

A well-established resume — that’s the end goal.

Chained to the CC of emails,

Picking the right friends to move higher up,

Squinting for a glimpse of the 401K.

So much depends on my career.

“I’ll keep this all in mind,” I tell the recruiter,

But I pick up a flyer and move on.

 


Kayla Gonzales is in the class of 2026, majoring in ITI and minoring in DCIM. Her hometown is Piscataway, NJ. She enjoys writing, listening to music, and playing the N.Y. Times mini crossword.

Kayla wrote this poem in a creative writing class taught by Professor Paul Blaney. Blaney selected the piece for inclusion in WHR.