Bodega

The silence is disrupted by the sounds of heavy forklifts crashing down the aisle way

pallet jacks fully packed to the brim with merchandise of every size

i can smell lacquers, and satins, and burn in sealers wafting from the shop

while all around me move shells of people caught in this trap of cardboard boxes and screaming managers

its a warehouse, where dreams go to lie down into a fitful slumber, and fade away from thought 

where we take the job and trudge through the day covered in grease and sweat 

the shelves packed with furniture surround us like castle walls, yet keep us locked in instead of protecting us

you can't be happy here

only settle

the office girl by my work station is beautiful, and my heart flutters when I see her

she can't escape the struggle either 

she's in the office 

in the warehouse

she's settled

my partner has been here for years

he's 30 looks 40, with a bad back 

"it's not all bad" he tells me

"be greatful you have a job"

he goes back to his station, where he'll be for the next 12 hours to make the rent

the roaches need to eat

he's settled 

I strap on my harness and rise myself up onto the forklift, to bring down my next repair 

and when I'm up there, that ever present crowd of 'if onlys' and 'some days' toil in the heat of docks

while the drivers outside, semi drunk, open another beer to forget about home for awhile 

because the bodega is home 

and I'm with them in this 

I've settled