The Right Man To Die On The Job

Such perfect vigour,
such way with rhyme,
such grasp of light and form
and always just on time;
punching in for eight or ten
to fill up on One, or sell a beer,
to earn a check without the use
of any skill found dear;
this is the one, the perfect one,
to waste a thousand days
and collapse, a whole life done,
between the jerky and the Lay’s.

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