pot hole lament

seventeen
men
in orange vests
and hard hats
gather
around
the pot hole
after lining
up a mile
or so of plastic
barrels
and signs
saying detour,
merge
right.
it's a small
hole in
the road,
nearly the size
of a man hole
cover, a half
a foot deep.
there's
a back hoe,
a steam
roller,
a dump truck
and the men
with shovels
and brooms, talking
on phones,
sipping
on 7-11 coffee.
it's bumper
to bumper traffic
as rush hour begins
and lasts
all day.