PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I guess

nobody

likes temp workers

they take up space

take up jobs

often shit jobs

no one else wants

like undocumented fruit pickers

the temp worker

is pariah par excellence

slipping in

earning a few bucks

and disappearing

before learning

any names or faces

This one time,

not at band camp,

I was a temp

toiling at a box factory

actually named Acme Corrugation

just trying

to earn a few meals

keep a roof over my head

another week

another month

We fed cardboard sheets

into a machine;

corrugated boxes

the end result

boxes to be filled with wares

endless capitalism perpetuated

It’s inglorious work

Milhouse’s dad

worked at a box factory

no wait,

a cracker factory

the box factory

was a field trip

that gave Skinner a hard on

the whistle blows

breakfast break

grab a sandwich and coffee

feel daggers

from the glares of the perms

I sit alone, eat alone

chug my coffee

fast enough to induce palpitations

the machine

and the cardboard awaits

and I wonder how many weeks

as I muse

and wax nostalgic

the machine

 jams up

I’m sure

there will be

Hell to pay

but I’m just a temp

woefully indifferent

already figuring

I have one foot

out the door

to patiently await

the next soul crushing,

demoralizing gig