Wednesday @ Work Poem: Perishable Gang

I pulled

dead cows

off trains.

On bleak Saturday mornings

during work we worked at

drinking copious amounts of Five Star Whiskey

out of flimsy paper water-cooler cone cups.

Winter came to Thunder Bay.

Having accumulated too many headaches

and too little seniority

they laid me off.

Sometimes losing your job

helps you

not to lose

yourself.

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