The End of Summer Work Day
Two and a half hours overtime
that gets counted up in six minute
increments. Night shift
begrudgingly lined up, waiting
their turn. Stop the line
and out, the half-hearted rush
to the lockers because we’re so tired.
Change out of the scrape and
sand jeans, my work goggles,
my bump cap, everything has
a place, and hit the door.
The outside heat smacking me
in the face, reminding
that it could be worse as
I head out into a day
already in progress.
3 thoughts on "The End of Summer Work Day"
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Love the imagery and specificity of the description here.
I love this poem. I feel it!
Thank God for hard working men. Civilization would collapse in no time without men. Nicely done, Geoff.