Bonnie’s heart sank when she considered the horror of the lives that most men led, trapped for nine ten hours a day in the slave gangs of traffic, the uniformed peonage—suit and tie and digital wristwatch—of the office galleys, the nerve-wracking drudgery of the on-going never-ceasing destruction and reconstruction, backhoes, front-end loaders, jackhammers, wrecking balls, freight trucks, nailguns, concrete culverts, asbestos insulation, I-beams, hardware, software, application forms, medical claim forms, auto insurance forms, income tax forms, garbage, mud, dust, sludge, whole monoclines of paper and anticlines of carbon (press hard) and synclines of silent despair. The world of ”jobs”. -Edward Abbey
Terrified women are flooding the offices One’s leg is crushed beneath a heavy iron gate People are vanishing leaving only their shoes Unanswered texts silhouettes burned into the wall Legions of mindless cops now arrive, loudly beating their batons Against their shields Why’s everybody looking at me like there’s something fundamentally wrong? Don’t walk on me like the half frozen pond
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