2010

There’s dust stirring up everywhere we walk
This place is dry as death and depressing as hell
Would be as quiet if we weren’t here
The Nazis made their mess and now we’re here to tidy it
Three years here and the ugliest thing I’ve seen
Was a lunch of Limburger and tea

The Ford Rouge Plant
Stands only a half mile
Away from my house
Towering above
The neighborhood
Like a Taskmaster
Watching
While we played
Basketball
At Lapeer Park
We, the Future
Assembly line
Workers
Who work on Christmas
And relish overtime
Who know little
About company policy
And Benefits
We, who appreciate
The opportunity to
Work for the opportunistic
After all, it is
Why our fathers
Came, and our grandfathers
Before them

We decided the best place for us to drink that night was the shelter. In the rainy, winter months of Connemara, the beaches were no longer an option.

I had been kayaking down at my uncle’s house, which was built on a rocky cliff that over-looked the Atlantic ocean, when I saw my best friend Sean on the shore holding up a blue bag. Blue bags meant beer. I paddled in with a big dumb grin on my face thinking about what tonight would have in store for us. Also, it had been a while since we had all been properly drunk together, and that’s always a reason to celebrate.