|
Glen Clark |
|
Smoke Break Poem 1. When a fist to the time clock and the hours in between became nothing more than the tedium of hauling objects from A to B, he began to measure the day in cigarettes. Twenty per shift. 2. Burning time between yellowed fingertips, he spends a three smoke break blue hooded and freezing outside of Marion "Community". Leaning ear to palm. Pretending interest in patterns of orange specks of bleach stains on blue uniformed pants and occasionally picking at a callous until plans for freedom found waiting three hundred miles away are extinguished into the ashtray and its time to work again. Only seventeen more to go. [Index] |
|
Thunder Sandwich #26 - Summer/Fall 2005 |
|
|