For the most part, this is a true story, though I was fired before I could pop the question.


Evelyn

I don't dread coming here these days.
Okay, I do, but not so much as I did
Several weeks ago. The job remains
So dull as ever: slitting rolls of colored
Paper into smaller rolls, which printers
Turn to little stickers, "Great for grilling!,"
Placed on trays of meat. The atmosphere
Remains oppressive. Someone from
The owner's clan emerges from an
Office every hour to complain I'm
Slow, and, I, while saying, "Well,
I'm trying," dream of using filthy
Fingers to collapse the bastard's
Throat, and dancing on his lardy
Corpse, but, on the far side of the
Floor, in hair net and a smudgy
Smock, a lovely Filipino woman
Runs a press and waves to me,
And we've been having lunch
Together. Soon, I'll ask her out
To dinner; Friday, when we both
Are paid, and, I'm so certain of her
Answer, I feel little dread.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 21 times
Written on 2012-11-16 at 14:51

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