8/18/17 11:23 PM
\"Wounding\"
This job has wounded me
With superficial cuts from vengeful branches
And its soul crushing monotony
Another day, another tank of gas
Running five gallons through my mind and across my eyes
To save myself from staring at my phone
Onward, these light cuts will fade
They\'ll leave small, small bumps on my skin
But the taffy pulling of my brain will not
Every boring hour takes a thought and stretches it
Pulling it out and over itself
And then back again
Always reaching forward, stretching and exerting
Only to be wrenched back to where it was
The taffy puller breaks up the structure, making hard sugar into gelatinous elastic
I am headed into the deep freeze of the woods
To try to solidify my taffy
8/20/17 12:33 AM
\"Revitalizing\"
This job has revitalized me
Bronzed my skin and lightened my hair
It has given me respite in activity
And a paltry but sustaining salary
I spent days leaving my phone in search of a traffic cone
I got paid to drive a souped-up golf cart
With a dimestore awooga horn
Being outside eight hours of the day
Now, I am faced with shut doors and little lawn
Months long of short forays into cookie cutter wilderness