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Swing Shift Blues

 What is better than leaving a bar
in the middle of the afternoon
besides staying in it or not
having gone into it in the first place
because you had a decent woman to be with?
The air smells particularly fresh
after the stale beer and piss smells.
You can stare up at the whole sky: it's blue and white and does not stare back at you like the bar mirror, and there's Whats-'is-name coming out right behind you saying, "I don't believe it, I don't believe it: there he is, staring up at the fucking sky with his mouth open.
Don't you realize, you stupid son of a bitch, that it is a quarter to four and we have to clock in in fifteen minutes to go to work?" So we go to work and do no work and can even breathe in the Bull's face because he's been into the other bar that we don't go to when he's there.

Poem by Alan Dugan
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Book: Reflection on the Important Things