By Andrew R. Duckworth
There’s something romantic about
The smell of oil and hot sparks
From cut wires, and the gentle
Waft of coffee from a reused cup,
And a puff of a cigar from a box.
There’s something respectable about
A dark blue work shirt and pants
Soaked in sweat after an hour
Tinkering away at machines.
There’s something special about
The work of yesterday when men
Knew work and work knew men.
I remember that machine repair shop
Just off of Southwest Second Street.