Wednesday, February 1, 2012

Up On The Roof

The Mexicans are whistling
and stretching strings
to make straight lines
and squinting in winter light
their voices rise
over the nail guns
and the whir of skill saws
and layer by layer
they are laying the new roof
and i'm down here
with a fever
with dogs
who think the end is near
because there are footfalls
above us
lunch hour comes with bright sun
i let the dogs out to roam
they're offended by the asphalt dust
that has rained down in their yard
The Mexicans play football
in the driveway
and eat their sandwiches
before heading back up the ladders
where they'll stay til dark

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