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Vern Fein
The Helper
At my in-laws reunion
we lounge in Paradise,
the Pacific a blue shawl tossed over the shoulders
of a mansion surveying
endless clouds, sunbathers, yachts.
We eat, drink, laugh, hug.
One of the children
who flit around the patio
like multi-colored butterflies,
spills something dark
on one of the pristine, white stones,
hand-cut patio slab.
Their hired Latina helper,
an aged lady,
ignores the party around her,
quickly slips from the shadows,
falls on her knees,
slaves hard to restore
purity to that stone,
scrubs and scrubs.
It won't come off,
There is
lots of stepping around her.
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