Thursday, February 13, 2025

Groovin' on Graveyards - a poem about the night shift

  

Lawrence Hall

Mhall46184@aol.com

Dispatches for the Colonial Office

 

The Graveyard Shift

 

At two in the morning everything is old

The hours, the work, the fluorescent lights

The air, the night, flickering computer screens

Even the freshly-made coffee in the break room

 

At two in the morning everything is old

The way the new guy snuffles his dripping nose

The cleaning lady’s mop bucket and its rattling roll

The snoopervisor’s totally fake good cheer

 

At two in the morning everything is old

“You’ll love the fellowship on graveyards,” I was told

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