SOME ARE HAPPY
Some are happy
about another week
of seven twelves,
snorting speed
off toilet tank porcelain
to keep them going,
picking, packing,
loading those trucks.
It’s extra money,
to drink and party
after work,
or stick in the
slot machines,
or buy a big screen TV.
But some run, screaming
“Fuck this shit!”
They rip off uniform shirts,
leave them in piles by the door.
They march to their cars
slam doors and peel out
of parking lots, thinking,
I don’t give a shit,
fuck all the trucks
that have to get loaded
and drive to Chicago,
or Tampa or Omaha.
And these days
the ones watching
them go wonder
if they’re coming back
with semi automatics
and pockets full of ammo,
every bullet a memory,
a snide comment,
eye roll, or lost day
in the sun.
-- Brian Rihlmann
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