10.30.2008

Iron and other ferrous metals.

"...and all of you
will spend this year
learning how to weld...."
he said from beneath
a furrowed gray brow
above two eyes
green with envy
for our youth
and opportunity
still not quite gone.

"...and you will do it
my way, the Right Way
since all of you
are here tonight
because this is the Career
You've Chosen."

I tried.
I swear I tried extremely hard
but it happened--
that damn uncontrollable smirk
that only God can wipe off
through His almighty smiting.

"You. What's your name?
Something funny about what I just said?"

Better judgment intervened.
I had a whole year
of apprenticeship class
with this authority figure to endure
in the basement of the union hall.

"No, sir. Just thinking
about something
that happened earlier."
'Earlier that day' was implied
in order to get out of trouble
but I was really thinking
of what had happened
a few years ago
and how that had gotten me
where I was, sitting in front
of this bitter old man
who swore he was going
to make a welder out of me yet.

What he said was too much to handle--
I didn't chose the pipe;
the pipe chose me
or maybe the bottle
made the decision for both of us.

"Well there's no thinking
allowed here, Kid.
Just welding.
And what did you say your name was?"

But before I could respond
my buddy sitting
across the room
opened his mouth:
"That's Shakespeare, Chucky.
We call him that on the job, he reads
in his truck on lunch break."

Chucky exhaled the smoke
from a cigarette he wasn't smoking.
"Shakespeare, huh? I've got my eye on you.
I can tell you're 'The One' in this class..."

He muttered something under
his breath about how there's
always got to be One Per Group.
I was too busy correcting him
in my head to pay attention, though--
"The One in this class?
I'm the one in a million, brother."




Currently reading:
"The Plague" by Albert Camus.

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