mhall46184@aol.com
County Prisoners
In the back of a county pickup truck
Odd jobs in lifting this and shifting that
And clearing the other – work gloves, chain saws
A rake, some shovels, water in the cooler
He wipes hot sweat with his zebra-stripe shirt:
“Better than the cells, Mr. H, much better
Sun and fresh air; it ain’t so bad, you know
A little hard work never hurt nobody
It was that old devil dope; I couldn’t say no…”
“Enough of that now, boys; we got to go.”
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