...and the High Horse You Rode In On.

An oblivious colleague
blasts Skynyrd's "Simple Man"
on his SmartPhone
as we sit in the break room
at four in the morning.
I'm brought back
to when an old friend's
cover band used to dedicate
that song to me at gigs.
Seems ages ago.
Seems I haven't listened.
Two hours 'til daylight.
I give up on repentance
and go for a puff outside
where it's seemingly safe
from accusatory lyrics
and failed endeavors.

As I light up near the smoke shack
an old-timer reads my face.
"To be a pipefitter," he says
through nicotine-stained teeth
"you must marry, divorce
and wander the earth
for forty years."
He doesn't get the laugh
he was seeking with his proverb.
The prospect makes me cringe
and consider a career change.

I suck the butt down quickly
and walk back to the trailer.
It's silent in there now.
My book provides refuge
for the remaining three hours
of our shift.
My mind is relatively numbed
except for the time
when a passage I read
sends an old pang of guilt
to the tips of my boots.
I slept with my roommate's
girlfriend in college.
Why?
Because I could
and not get caught.
Karma lasts a lifetime.
The wrenches take their toll.
It wasn't a fair trade
but when has it been
ever?

The day crew comes like cavalry.
We pour out through the gates.
There above the cooling tower
a slew of sharp-winged sparrows
dance where steam usually rises
from this nuclear power plant.
This nomad thinks back
to our almost-matching tattoos
and wonders if she'd do the same.

The problem's not their leaving.
It's that they always will be there.


Currently reading:
"When God Winks at You" by SQuire Rushnell.