Mechanical Men Apply the brakes adjust the slack scrape your boots and bring the collars and buckets, grab my smokes said Dick 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…
Tag: working class poem
Walking Home At 3AM
Pigeons scatter in the alley when I throw them crumbs, someone must have scared them too much to trust me today. Ahead, a drunk exits a bar just as I am approaching. He doesn’t see me behind him as he staggers from one side of the sidewalk to the other. When I try to go…
When I See These Boots
All I think of when I see these boots is a hand full of dimes squeaking at me through the leather and broken soles that seem to grind my feet to the ground All I see is a row of wooden picture frames and I count them, subtract them, divide them into the hours that…
