Poetry by Dythandra

Tasting the Oxymoron

Seems a bit strange, the new "requirement"
For all senior students:
25 hours of "Volunteer Work".

We have an assembly, Nuremberg light--
All the overinflated are there
To guide us on our way.

Even the mayor is in on the act
Seems everyone wants us to know
Just how much our "volunteering"
Will be appreciated.

I snicker with the rest,
When, three speakers in,
They introduce the rep. from the Boy Scouts.
Short pants should have an expiration date.

After the agitprop, we mill about
Wandering from table to table
Seeking our respective niches.

I go outside--gymnasiums have always made me nauseous.

My hope they'd ignore me, sadly, is dashed.
Two weeks later, I'm called to the counselor.

"We need to find you a volunteer placement, dearie"

I shudder.

She pushes some brochures in front of me.
I shake my head, but she insists.

"It's required. Everyone has to do it."
There is no compromise; her eyes are like steel.

Fine, I think to myself.
They can't say they didn't have a chance to avoid this.

My volunteer placements are shortlived:

Seems the "reading to the seniors" program wasn't thrilled with me
(I didn't see any "no erotica" sign anywhere in that building)

Then there was the preschool.
I simply took a picture of each child standing beside me,
Then sent the lovely photos home.

Apparently enrollment dropped significantly the next day.

I knew my stint as a "candy striper" would be doomed from the start.
Apparently they didn't believe me
When I told them my assignment card
Spelled it with two "p's".

Finally they pulled me in the office and admitted defeat.
Still, against all hopes, the poor wretch just has to ask:
"Isn't there anything on the volunteer board you'd like to do?"

I smirked, then glanced at the array of cards.

Suddenly, my eyes lit up, and I snatched a card from the wall.
"This one." She glances at it, and starts to say something.
Then, thinking better of it, she hands it back along with a printout--
Directions to my last chance.

My thrill is short-lived, though.
Seems my new "employers" are selfish--
They won't let me take anything home.

Damned blood bank bastards.