COUNTY EMPLOYEE
Enough with paper trail chains. Enough…five years
treading through shit without much luck. Five years-
early mornings- this is life?– quick coffee driving
end to end of this crooked county for a buck. Five years
spent, elbow deep, latex connections, other peoples’ time.
Ceil blue waders, fade with the murk and the muck. Five years,
mourning in afternoons, and in the night- permanently
raw- hearing Mr. Daniels!!! In tuts and clucks. Five years
in windowless pink and green basements, casting now shadows,
drifting- smile face façade- left to dodge and duck. If I’ve years
robbed from me- you do not think of me- mornings,
maybe mourning shouldn’t be why I wake up. Five years?
pea river journal 
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