it seems, has no feelings.
there
is nothing
on his face
that resembles kindness
or hate,
there is just the flat
tone
of his voice
taking
the next number as
he waits for
a customer to point out
which
meat
and what weight.
the blood on his apron
means nothing.
it's work.
he'll go home tonight
to his wife
who loves him.
to his children, but the dog
will be
the most excited,
staring longingly out
the window.
he can hardly wait.
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