Advancement

I look at Fran, who brings my plate, and at
The plate, its oil-slimy eggs atop potatoes,
Fried, and I look out the cafe window at
A passing train. Three guys in filthy
Overalls are drinking coffee next to me.
They call each other nasty names, and
Laugh, and there is something in their
Laughter that convinces me they like and
Trust each other, and they're happy with
Their jobs,

But, from this grubby part of town, I
Have to rush to take my place inside
An office building with its laboratory
Lights and walls, its noise-absorbing
Carpet, and I have to take my seat
Inside a cubicle. I cannot see the
Windows, and there are no trains,
And, worse, I have to hear the thin
And unconvincing laughter of the
Men and women all around, who
Neither like nor trust each other,
And who hate their jobs.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 14 times
Written on 2011-05-12 at 13:10

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