Working Title
by William Dean



We are rough men and ready for rough work.
Smoking, cursing, uneducated, wise.
Our talents are strong backs and callused hands.
We drill for oil. We make steel. We drive trucks.
We expect the overlooking glances
that never meet ours. The look of surprise
when we speak. We live in that part of town.
Our houses need repair and our yards need
mowing. Our children are just average.
At times, we hate you. But mostly - we don't.





Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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