work In progress

sweat drips
like piss  
flowing from that concrete  
statue  
no one knows  
what it's called;  
but it happens to fill  
as a water feature  
anywhere  
a guy  
with an idea and  
a bucket of grout  
to fill the cracks in the  
tiles  
finds a nine by nine space  
in a park  
 
that musky smell from  
work boots  
having spent a day  
laboring  
in a cold steel factory  
which exists  
because  
damn, we have to make something  
-anything  
no one actually gives a shit  
what it is  
as long as it is made  
 
oil and grease  
cologne the body like the  
black  
the black  
that is ingrown  
in the  
rough  
callused skin  
we wear  
as a permanent raincoat;  
along with the residue  
of the V6 head gasket  
stripped across the bedroom  
floor  
like the  
Ducati  
modeled on the kitchen  
counter  
 
really  
don't have time for tea  
but a hat tip  
and "gooday gorgeous"  
-well that you can have  
for free