Laborer's Ode I - Asphalt Pavers
Boy gets up at six
Needs no alarm of complaint
To shake
The brief night of sleep
From his hay-cropped hair
Brushes his teeth
Smokes a two dollar holler of cigarette for breakfast
A pack a day is like tax day for him
Paid by ten in the morning
Then the day is free and clear
Holds down his car as it bucks to life
Lurches away
Stops at Starbucks
Spends another hour’s dough
On two large black coffees
Picks up three buddies at the far edge
Of the Walmart parking lot
Drives two hours to arrive
At a dismal road to tame with asphalt
The boys dissolve and stick to the road
Buns of thick shoulders
Rise and fall in the oven of sun
Shoveling boils of oil and coal
Throwing
Their boots to stomp the steam
His car limps back to his driveway corral
At 9:45 in the summer evening
Devours another hour
Of Coors and McDonalds at his kitchen table
Prays very hard to God
Maybe it could rain tomorrow?
His girlfriend stands behind him
Rests her head on his shoulder
A dim light buzzing from the ceiling.
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