Author: Gary Beck Source: http://www.polseguera.com/writers/writing-776_objectives.html Objectives Gary Beck/Objectives   Shelter I don't like living here. There's no heat in winter. It's sweaty hot in summer. None of the people are nice. This one guy wants to sex me. I told him I was only twelve but that didn't matter to him. He keep trying to touch me whenever he comes close and he's very scary. I told mom but she didn't care, always high with her boyfriend. I talked to the social worker but she wouldn't do anything. I'll try to keep him off me but he keeps offering stuff that no one else will give me. So maybe I'll let him sex me. Why not? Nobody else cares.     Burden I always tried to be positive no matter what went wrong. I didn't get promotions at my long term job as a statistical analyst, while the people I worked with got bonuses, raises, much better positions. Then they let me go after seventeen years with two weeks severance.   We didn't have children but we had a little house in a nice neighborhood and lived quietly, until the streets turned bad with drugs and violence.   We couldn't afford to move, so we didn't go out much. Then Carrie got sick. Expenses mounted. I took a service job without benefits making coffee. Carrie keeps getting worse. My insurance won't cover her. Without special treatment she won't get better.   I phoned my old boss, told him I needed coverage but he wouldn't do anything. Carrie was the one bright thing in my difficult life and now she's going to die because we can't afford the cure.   She's always so brave it breaks my heart. I won't tell her this but after she's gone I'll get an AR-15, visit the old office and thank them for not helping her.     Security Guard I watch the rich kids come and go and they never notice me a big, anonymous black guy in a rent-a cop uniform with no relationship at all to the students of privilege, who barely acknowledge me when I ask for their I.D. I get paid minimum wage with almost no benefits and no job security. Even though it's not spelled out there is an expectation that I will protect these kids, even at the risk of my life. If a lunatic with weapons comes to the entrance shooting I'm getting out of the way and we'll see if their wealth saves them.     The E.R. No matter how tired I feel I keep smiling. It makes the patients feel better, reassures them nothing's wrong, yet it becomes harder each day, especially on the weekend where every irresponsible person O.Ds on drugs or liquor, gets shot or stabbed, breaks something, has some kind of infection… The cases are non-stop, each demanding my care which is what I trained for. But nursing school didn't prepare me for the Covid epidemic that hospitalized so many. They consumed our energy going from patient to patient hoping to control fevers, trying to save lives, trying to come to terms with those we lost. I was getting depressed, beginning to despair we'd never survive the virus, when a smart, older nurse took me aside: "No matter what they tell us, we're at war and we're the first line of defense. No matter what happens it's up to us to save the patients, no matter how tired we get." I thanked her and on my way home after a grueling shift when too many died though we did our best, I found new resolve to return to the E.R. and do my best not to lose anyone else.     Gang Boy Two of the big guys for my initiation beat the shit our of me so bad I hurt for a week. But I didn't cry or quit, so I was accepted and now belong to the gang. No one mess with me now, or the gang get them good. I asked my new bros when I get a gun and they laughed at me. 'You a midget, boy. Didn't no one tell you? Juniors don't get guns. Only seniors get guns. You be how old? Thirteen? You gotta wait a long time'.   Objectives is an unpublished poetry collection that reveals the demands, fears and troubles of a struggling society no longer capable of resolving difficult problems: 'Shelter', 'Burden', 'Security Guard', 'The E.R.', 'Gang Boy'.