a shirt full of sweat
just past the point of soaking wet
in below freezing weather
slams the iced-over thoughts together
to the fireworks of life
a hot buttery butcher knife
chiseling into the spine a frustration
the silent poetry of an oppressed nation
the explosive discomfort of toil
leftover brain stew beginning to boil
just as i bust into the seven eleven
great god above, this must be heaven