not men,
or women, or weather.
just one thing,
losing his
job.
not being able to work
and stand
at the drill press
for nine hours.
throwing metal to the side,
making
things.
this, this drudgery,
this slavedom for a paltry
sum,
was what he lived for.
this work
he feared in losing.
it kept him alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment