Lamentations of a Warehouse Worker
He steps out of a climate-controlled truck,
Determined to converse — that’s fine,
I’m not busy or anything.
“God it’s hot in here.”
Yup.
“Well is the money alright?”
I’ve worked harder for less.
“Your generation doesn’t even know what work is.”
Guess not.
I attempt my escape but the
Mailman has made himself quite comfy;
He is leaning on the pallet
Jack and I am anchored by etiquette.
He continues his relentless barrage:
“Yeah I’ll retire in a few years and live off the
Property I’m renting.”
Ah, you’re a landlord.
Well, man, we’re understaffed on a
Good day and today ain’t one
So I’d better get back to it.
I check my bank account again,
One can never be too safe.
After all,
Rent is due.
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A glimpse of time! Great poem