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what, exactly, is my level?
at the monthly meeting,
the plant controller,
a shiny bead on a string
of recent hires and fires,
talked a mish mash of numbers
using fancy accountant math
to validate the graphs
showing that despite
the fact sales are up,
production is up
and more hydraulic cylinders
are being pushed
out the door
than ever before
profits are way down
"let me break it down
to your level"
this vaunted accountant said
"we have no money
coming in,
so we have no money
to pass down to you"
they stood in a tight confederation
the general manager
the production manager
the plant controller
the quality engineer
the human resource syphoner
their arms crossed
eyes hooded
daring someone on our level
to raise a dissenting voice
ask an honest question
we sat in a loose, numb sprawl
the machinists
the welders
the CNC operators
the assemblers
the chrome shop technicians
everyone who’s worked
ten hour days
six days a week
for months on end
and we say nothing
we outnumber them
at least fifteen to one
yet they’re the ones
who walk out the door
with smiles on their faces
© 2008 Karl Koweski/Al
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