greenway st.

i travel
to an array of
at least to me
all across the
metroplex and
far out in
the sticks

i am overly
always asking
what they do
in whatever
office or
warehouse that
i find myself in

usually it is
blah blah blah
financial this
or insurance that
something utterly
soul draining
to my dire need
to roam free
beige cubicles
festively decorated
to try and blur
the hard edges of
being sheeps
trapped in pens

today i got
to explore a
warehouse where
they make
cardboard tubes
in various sizes
for toilet paper
to blueprints
shipping metal rods
and a million
other uses
i laboriously
the poor workers about

it begins with
thick spools of
thin cardboard
pulled through
a series of rollers
spun along a
long metal shaft
that turns
much the same
as a lathe
slowly entwining
multiple streams
running through
adhered together
by a special glue
then fed through
a cutter and
chopped to the
necessary length

i was enthralled
the old machines
mechanical marvels
of chains and pulleys
the only electronics
the sturdy motor
driving it all
ingenious in its
wonderful simplicity
and i longed
to tear one apart

some calls lead
to drab offices
others can lead
to mini-adventures
and a fool grinning
asking too many questions
an overgrown kid
lost in gearwork wonder
needing to know
how everything works
a natural inclination
to fix machines
in an effort to
make up for the
broken parts of himself
buried deep down inside

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