Fences

Fences




Ghost white eyes stare from coal black faces,

behind chain link barb wire, trucks go in and trucks go out.

This is the face of employment, and I hope I never,

reach the other side of that fence.

It is not pride that keeps me from crossing that line,

but white-knuckled fear.

I fear that fence more than I fear disease and death,

because I know disease,

and disease holds out for the cure,

while death allows for rest.

What lies behind the fence,

is a lifetime of meaningless hours

spent pretending to be concerned,

but concern is for those

who have given up

and know nothing of living without regret.