The/Ben's Factory

I’ve half lifted those pallets whole heartedly, and weakly dragged them across the floor. Those are the bins I pushed around, the clock whose battery I changed, the workbench I assembled (though backwards, at first). That’s the forklift that brought me to the ceiling to lift heavy pieces of metal into the rafters for “safe keeping”. That's the man that drove it. That might be the wood I counted over, and over again. Those are the nails (on the floor, you can’t see them) that I pulled out of boards. I’ve sprayed down the dust from those lights. I’ve fired at least one of those nail guns, opened the fresh box of many, and retired more than that to Anson’s desk. That’s the way the broom hangs and where the ladder goes. I’ve shrink wrapped and tagged pallets just like those ones, broken ones just like those ones, fixed ones just like those ones.


I have probably circled that factory floor over a thousand times.