THE FACTORY

Ninety dollars an hour in Angola
Indiana will buy you lunch and more.
The factory has its needs, you have yours.
Renting yourself out to industry
is no big crime against family values.
True you are away from home. You are cold
beyond weather. But the man from Crooked Lake
writes the checks and all enjoy your presence.

From Plato, Mongo, and Brushy Prairie,
from as far away as Honeyville, men
come. And when they get the line up to speed
you hear the humming in their heads. Green, fast.
After love, work is the deepest thing you
give. This is both. When the hard winter sun
dies each day, money is your pillow. Night
turns your mind against itself. Sleep through it.