The Work of the Writer

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The Work of the Writer


I'm a writer.
My job's to fill up notebooks.
I usually work the swing-shift.

The words are kept
in wheeled bins, which I roll
over to my station.

I unload the bins,
put the words on the conveyor
belt, which then rides the words

into the notebooks. On my breaks,
I go outside, nibble sandwich
corners, smoke cigarettes,

bullshit with the other writers
at the plant.
The shift-manager comes to fetch us,

the rat-bastard. --Back to work
until the horn goes off.
After that, we hit the taverns,

sit with vacant visages ("visages":
I saw that word on the belt today).
We try not to speak unless we have to:

You know how it is--you want to forget
work. A carpenter doesn't go to a tavern
looking to build anything. Once

I was walking home, and I saw the Muse.
She owns the plant. She's absolutely
gorgeous. I asked her for a kiss.


Copyright 2010 Hans Ostrom