bricklayer's helper

just one

long day in the dirt and debris

on a barren

site,

where timber

and steel

went up.

i pushed a wheel

barrow along a narrow board,

filled with

bricks

and stones,

i heard the men groan

as they

built the walls.

raising them,

one brick after another,

quietly

and slow.

they were silent for the most

part,

other than curses,

and vague talk

of women.

their skin was

bronzed and burned,

with hard hats

tilted on,

Da Vinci sculptures

with muscled necks, and rope

like veins

on their arms.

they exhaled the whiskey,

from the night

before.

over here, they'd yell,

over here kid,

what the fuck, come on.

more bricks, more mud,

not knowing

my name,

nor would they ever know it.

it was my first day

on the job,

and my last.

the next morning i never

felt such pain,

and was unable to get out of bed.

i stared at the ceiling

and wondered how

those men could go on.