CPJournal #3:Karl Koweski

treading chrome

entering the third year
of the chrome shop pay freeze
I’ve somehow lost the mental switch
that allowed me to shut down
every thinking process
not related to factory work

I stare into the chromic acid,
the reddish brown liquid
bubbling up a rusty orange foam
stinking of copper and sulfur
and I think about my children
living in a single wide trailer
wearing clothes given to them
by charitable members of
their church congregation
no different than if I were unemployed

I consider the amount
of my paycheck
sacrificed to medical bills
and credit card penalties
a serrated cycle of
late payments and
overdraft fees

and me understanding it
no better than a dog
comprehends the kick in the flanks
from a casually cruel master

but hollow men
don’t necessarily
possess
empty minds

I know I’ve pissed away
the last twelve years

every passing birthday
celebrated with promises
of a better party next year

desperation devouring
another raw, bloody chunk
of my existence

I know
I’ve got to do something
I’ve got to do something
I’ve got to do something
I think