Cider. Dry.

“An average day”

I could read in my car,
But I choose to sit in the
Sewerage pumping unit,

With the loud whirring fans,
And motors pushing human shit,
Up and down hills.

I take a seat near the
Emergency phone and wait
For the gas detector to pick up
Some monoxide readings so
I can go home and listen to
The radio

and stress about,
Weather or not, I brush my
Teeth enough to avoid
a three month toothache
I heard some one talking about
In the lunch room.

On the average day I spend
More time worrying
About things I cant change
instead of avoiding the
Things I can.