Anais Mitchell - Young Man in America - Young Man in America
His sweat know the routine. Same shit different day. At least that is what he hears the others toss around when he asks them how they are doing. But their jobs are easier, less of the back aching and more to the pretty smiles and because they are younger and educated and lazy they probably get several dollars more. It doesn’t bother him much however. He doesn’t need to get paid for trimming his nails on the job. The little time he has in between work and sleep allows for him to eat and do things like that. Mostly though he refers back to his checklist of things he hasn’t done and wishes he could. He nurtures it with new ideas he gets from conversations with customers, the ones that talk with him that is. The list, it only grows. He thinks about how he’s missed birthdays, his mom’s, his dad’s, his best friend’s, his daughter’s, his wife’s, his son didn’t make it but the day is still marked on the calendar, but forgets. He can’t even remember the last time he blew out some candles for his own. He probably couldn’t even blow out his own today from all the cigarettes he’s done smoked. A brief pause at work to wipe the sweat, and then another call.