Even the bosses are sleeping late in the dusty light of September. The parking lot’s empty and no one cares. No one unloads a ladder, steps on the gas or starts up the big machines in the shop, sanding and grinding, cutting and binding.
Replies
No one lays a flat bead of flux over a metal seam or lowers the steel forks from a tailgate.
sep 2, 2025, 6:25 am • 0 0 • view
Shadows gather inside the sleeve of the empty thermos beside the sink, the bells go still by the channel buoy, the wind lies down in the west, the tuna boats rest on their tie-up lines turning a little, this way and that.
sep 2, 2025, 6:25 am • 0 0 • view
—Joseph Millar, “Labor Day”
sep 2, 2025, 6:26 am • 2 1 • view