yonderman.com

Night Shift

You want to know
why I do
that strange thing
I do?

Here’s why:

Walking home from work
late one night last fall,
Passing under the highway
named for the queen,
Using the temporary sidewalk
hastily thrown together for me,
Seeing construction workers
scurrying under harsh work lights,
I somehow recognized
the Joy of hard hats and work boots.

How could I possibly recognize
that?
I’ve never constructed a highway in my life!
I’ve never deconstructed a bridge.
I’ve never poured a sidewalk,
not even a single square of sidewalk.

But my brain knows
the adrenalin high of making stuff.
The inside of my brain knows bright work lights.
My brain remembers nighttime employment.
My brain understands the shift from
waiting-all-day
to sudden vigorous activity!

Since I automatically empathize
with the manic energy of concrete construction,
maybe
construction workers
understand my wild poetic energy.

And that’s why I leave recordings of poems
where constructions workers will find them.

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