until he nearly crushed my fingers in
between two boxes of the pallet where
I had been stacking them. He beamed & then
cried “Watch your fingers, Bro!” And in that grin
I saw his topsy turvy, rotten teeth.
I think of him as Horse because -- well, when
I look at him I see a horse... Beneath
that bodily encumbrance beats a heart
of old. Some other workers say he "stinks".
He’s like a duckbilled platypus, apart
from other species. My heart sometimes sinks
as I peruse his file, look in, away
from him right there beside me as he zips
& come to no conclusion, not all day.
It’s better when the good ones crack his whips,
of course. I can’t forget him. He looks hurried
later on where formerly he scurried.
