the one they
call Big Daddy
over in
diebold is
the one that’s most
proud
of his work;
always telling anybody
who’ll listen
what Mike, the
head foreman, said
about the
good job he’s been doing.
and the guy in
large rounds, whose real
name is
David, but they
call Mo-Mo,
because he has
tourrette-ish tics and
a bad stutter,
has been there the
longest and knows
everything about
everything at
Southeastern Precast, Inc.
he comes in early
works his ass off
and stays late,
all because
this is the only place where
he is an important
and knowledgeable man.
and Richard back
in Symonds,
building headwalls and
large boxes,
is trying to
raise two young
girls alone
because his wife left
him and the
kids for a man who paid her
more attention and
supplied her growing habit.
he’s damn
thankful to have the
job and works
like a beast, sweat and
grime pouring off
him. all the while
keeping the pictures
of his two
princesses in his mind,
working so
that they may have
a better life.
then there’s me, at
small boxes.
i work there,
overqualified and underpaid,
to make a living,
to pay the bills,
just until something
better comes along;
and i watch them
working,
talking,
bitching,
horsing around with each other.
and i realize
we’re all in the
same place:
trying to stay
a little
ahead, trying to
continue moving before
the concrete sets around
our feet.
–Published in Nerve Cowboy #7