Laborer's Ode I - Asphalt Pavers

Boy gets up at six Needs no alarm of complaint To shake The brief night of sleep From his hay-cropped hair Brushes his teeth Smokes a two dollar holler of cigarette for breakfast A pack a day is like tax day for him Paid by ten in the morning Then the day is free and clear Holds down his car as it bucks to life Lurches away Stops at Starbucks Spends another hour’s dough On two large black coffees Picks up three buddies at the far edge Of the Walmart parking lot Drives two hours to arrive At a dismal road to tame with asphalt The boys dissolve and stick to the road Buns of thick shoulders Rise and fall in the oven of sun Shoveling boils of oil and coal Throwing Their boots to stomp the steam His car limps back to his driveway corral At 9:45 in the summer evening Devours another hour Of Coors and McDonalds at his kitchen table Prays very hard to God Maybe it could rain tomorrow? His girlfriend stands behind him Rests her head on his shoulder A dim light buzzing from the ceiling.