Raising the Floor
Sitting down
When you've been on your feet
All day --
Something just about anyone
Can relate to,
I think.
Not sitting in a street
Waiting for the police
To arrive.
We all need to eat.
We all need to work.
And food tastes better
When you know you earned it.
They aren't taking orders
Not today
The smiles are genuine,
And so is the desire to serve.
Supersize my heart,
That's all,
That's enough
For me.
And a chair,
Just a chair,
So I can sit down
At the end of the day.
Or
you can raise
The floor.
Above the pain
That pools down there.
Waste product
Of a life's work.
Reprinted with permission from the Blue Collar Review: Journal of Progressive Working Class Literature (Spring 2015 issue).
Ira Woodward identifies himself as a resident of Burien, WA, with various online publications.
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