[Lyric] Clock In Clock Out (Aaron Walter)

Clock in, clock out
to shrink-wrapped peas
and soggy, diced carrots. Another
Salisbury steak,
microwaved hot with gritty
little bones.

Newport Sand and Smoky
Coal encrusted lids sag,
Rubbed with mortar-chalked
fingers and cracked
gray knuckles.

Network television reruns
fade at 2 A.M.
to the muted enthusiasm
of infomercial marathons.

Fantasia beige sleep with cigarette
stink on yesterday's clothes.
No romance or conquest,
just the salt & pepper static crackle
and florescent antique
white; pock-marked faces
in a porcelain winter.
A dogeared novel falls
to the floor from his chest
and the clock repeats
"Morning, morning."
Familiar steam loosens the sinus
gridlock. Today's
gas station coffee tastes like tomorrow's
coffee and cement shoes retrace their steps
on the way to clock in
and clock out.