heads up
  Rob Thomas

mr.green, the nastiest sob in the shop, had a mouth
that ran literally a mile a minute, a mouth
that could chew a man out of a digit or two

you fed that asshole lumber in the opening up top
he belched out orders from the opening lower down

the job was slicing, hammering and bark-breaking
domesticating lumber into roof truss and gable
an unskilled occupation both glorious and deadly

the finishing press could sink a hammer flush,
and perfectly snug, in a waiting length of pine

sometimes the gun nails flew or pinged off steel
sometimes it was an accident

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