Tuesday, January 29, 2008

8 Hour Job

8 hour job
8 hour job
tired legs
burning feet
a trolley rattles the corridor.
I am too lumbered for lunch today.

we live, LIVE, for 4 o’clock.

8 dog hours
then, Home,
mundane maintenance
dreamy creativity.
I am sitting too near the fridge and the ice

beware the Lurid Exhaustion
that will throw you off the graffiti desk
when the music is SUDDENLY TOO LOUD.

8 dog hours
kill the story they make you live.

and I saw
a nurse taking the earrings from a dead child’s ears.
the screen hid nothing.
8 dog hours.

8 hours.
I walk them
then a lesbian drives me home.

Ford Dagenham