Fuel
The night attendant thinks robbery
might break the Sunday tedium,
though doors are locked after eleven
and all transactions are by mail slot.
After midnight he starts to long
for customer to yell at him again
when he says the credit card machines
are down until Monday morning.
After one he prays for anything
to interrupt the talking pump machines
dishing out well-wishes, pop trivia,
saying come again to where he already is.
1 comment:
Beautiful poem !
There is a wonderful feeling of being in this person’s skin - as he waits out time and the end of his shift
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