Our world view is restricted by what we see, we work in silos distinct and separate from each other and our injuries are seasonal, like strawberries, muses a philosophical poet.
We went about our work
as portable drills,
as clipped from the main
description of the trip
as permission slips.
We checked the foreman’s blueprint
and admired the building
It was like watching a puppet show
through x-ray lenses.
Our injuries were predictable,
We took our coffee black
and understood discolored thumbs
better than anyone.
In the evening we took our shirts
down to the river.
Fish and riverboats passed us by.
The world was fish and riverboats.