And 6 years later, he arrove late at night.
With a sanded hand, wood flakes on the nailbed
It was almost 7:30, then it was after 7:30.
7:29. 7:31.
He was a tired laborer, a skilled laborer.
He was a technician, a craftsman, an artisan.
In his quiet little country house
He took off his long shoes, stinky stinky socks.
He still felt
like he had
a mile to go
up a dark mountain
on feet of sticky heavy mud,
a high faint orange torch,
a light distance.
His sleepy family
falling asleep
to the wind singing again
more loudly, more uplifting
Local roadway commuters saw the easement of the flow of hundreds of automobiles.
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