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(What happens when the other half goes to work  ~ an hour before we do, so the rest don’t actually have to share the roads with them.

How many of them are there?

Think of it this way: just about every single thing we eat, drink, drive, wear, sit in and use throughout every day comes from factories.)

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Recorded Reading: Recorded Reading (3:29): https://www.dropbox.com/scl/fi/2p38hfe1c2e89cw3mtytp/The-Remainder.wav?rlkey=fqu7jj09u125pnor3l1rolslc&dl=0

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The Remainder

When as a child in school I learned
About something they cheerf’lly called
“Assembly lines,” like other kids,
I’d not the sense to be appalled

Unless life’s unexpected paths
Have turned and twisted you,
Until you are upon one, I’ll bet
You are missing that sense too

It won’t be necessary
To arrange for you a visit
I think a simple exercise
Will put you quite wise to it:

That spot where you are standing now
Will do just splendidly
For eight hours from this moment
That is where you’re going to be

Each hundred fifty minutes
We will send relief
Best have no needs twixt now and then
They’ll only bring you grief

Ten minutes is what you’ll have then
To walk across the fact’ry floor
Do everything you have to do
And make it back — no more

Once in the night, and only once,
A distinctive bell will sound
Then for an entire half hour’s span
This behemoth powers down

Which gives you time to stand in line
To pee, then wash, then sup,
And you had better be back here
When the behemoth pow’rs back up

Now, while you are on post
You will not look to left nor right
You will not let the product
For one moment from your sight

And better be you steely sharp
And better act you lightning fast
You may not miss one small detail
Of any unit coming past

For if a flaw you overlook
Whatever you may say
Any money we have lost
Is going to come out of your pay

And since we’re going to lay you off
Ere union dues we let you pay
Your check is not exactly
Overly generous anyway

For every product unit
Which before you will appear
In teaming tens of thousands
Running past your station here

You’ll make exactly three
Physical moves, no more, no less ~
You really won’t have time
For extras anyway, I guess

Since they will run that product
Scientifically just ahead
Of your capacity to put
That simple set of moves to bed

And then retain the priviledge
Of afterward haranguing you
On “Quality Control” and “Comp’ny
Spirit” — oh, and “Quotas,” too

Sometime around 3 am
When you are bored out of your mind
And fighting sleep and deep despair
We’ll see that you’re falling behind

And take your tool for sixty seconds
Show you how it’s done
Before back to the office’s
Ergonomic chair will run

When you get home, the smell of it
Will linger on your skin
You’ll find that stinky product
Every single pocket in

And every crease and cranny
Up your nose and in your hair
Although you’re free to sleep
You can still smell that fac’try air

But you’re not done, my friend,
Not done at all, for here’s the kicker
Which were I a sadistic man
Would give me cause to snicker

When you wake up, you’ll come back here
To this exact same place
With an ingratiating and a
Grateful smile upon your face

A whistle on your lips, the same old
Packaged lunch, and then
Get into position
To do it all again

You want to keep your humble home
Your car, your kids, your wife?
Prepare to stand in this same spot
For the remainder of your life

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This poet is physically disabled. Public housing being insufficient to her medical and creative needs, she is presently living, in order to continue working, in her minivan, publishing all of her works using one thumb on the touch screen of her smartphone, surviving at an income of a fraction of her nation’s poverty level. She would treasure any donation you might care to offer ~ http://www.UgiftABLE.com ● #72D-31S.

Please be aware that it takes several days for the poet to be notified of contributions. International patrons please contact the poet via email or post a comment for the necessary numbers.

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