an uncompromising rage sets off within me
turning over chairs and futures and
carts me off to a bar where I am known
as a moody grouch, just as I am now.
A few beers lightens my load
eases the tightening in my back
I go home
and water the plants and talk a little
to a partner who works my knots out
and wake up the next day
still on this conveyor belt
endlessly watching the pit
come closer.
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