Mechanical Men

Mechanical Men
Apply the brakes
adjust the slack
scrape your boots
Bring the collars and buckets
said Dick, and grab my
smokes
Remember all the things you
hated, all the moments
you endured when you
were too young for pain?
The crosses you broke before
and after seem to be
but gaps that have nothing
to do with the nakedness
of action.
All the clothes that outlived
ten year plans, strands of
vague colors woven into
the threshold of memory,
your shadow memories of
others passing in the buzzing
hive.
Take your courses and learn to fix
something, anything so someone
can pay you for it. You need
some money to mark the time
you spend being you for yourself
and others.
Words and plans grind away with a sort of
insulting aversion for a passion
which the men with a pulse provide
each day, each to his own device.

by RJ Hoffman.

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