Blue Collar

I see slouchy men with

slouchy shirts and slouchy lives

shuffling along in their sad songs,

forgetting the words.

The factories they live in offer nothing but

vending machine lunch breaks

and bathrooms without mirrors.

There's a silence around them

and on their down time

they rally in basements

to shuffle cards and stories.

Their wives waiting upstairs

with furrowed brow,

preserved fruits and ancient linens.

 The wives keep busy pacing

with worry giving life to

the floorboards' quiet sermon.


Ray Strickland 2011

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