Place On The Wheel
my grandpa arrived on a boat in the night
and moved into the wrong neighborhood
he was treated like dirt for being the wrong color
but he always knew just where he stood
he never even finished high school
people handed him a raft of shit
but he could pick up a carburetor blindfold
and tell you what engine it fit
my old man’s a refrigerator repairman
heh, naw, nothing as glamorous as that
he pushed paper around a desk for almost twenty years
when he was gone, they forgot him just like that
he raised six kids before the cancer took him
at least, given the time he had, he tried
he didn’t manage to show us how to fit in the mold
I was only thirteen when he died
my uncle should have been a junkman
they tried to make him a physicist
they counted up every time he punched the clock late
and every meeting he missed
he said I always work forty hours, and more
and the work’s always done, and done well
but he never discovered a way to fit in
his private version of corporate hell
one of my younger brothers is already gone
the cancer took him just like dad
played the twelve string guitar for fifty-five years
that’s sixteen more than his father had
so there are the things I grew up with
what it’s like to be my family
I don’t know if a lesson’s there for you
I don’t know what it says about me
everybody’s got their own place on the wheel
their own niche their own length of the thread
when you’re done trying to make any sense out of this
douse the lights say goodnight go to bed
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