Tuesday, November 26, 2013


These shifts are routine:
common room wipe down,
logs, laundry, shredder.

The routine is tradition, dogma. 
Unquestioned monotony:
the rhythm of the graveyard shift.

Midway through the logs
a youth wanders in,
shoes off and dressed.

Sprawled out on the couch
in the common room.
Not in a bed in his room.

I rolled my eyes,
put down my pen,
and left the office.

The laundry would have to wait.
Interruptions. At this rate
the shredding won't happen till 5.

Hey man--you're not asleep.
I am astute. People skills.
I work in social services.

Having trouble sleeping?
I have degrees in my field.
A highly qualified individual.

Yeah, just thinking
about how to save the world.
Sometimes I love my job.

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