Pressed Down

He put his thoughts together

Trying to place one word in front of the other

Reading them across his closed eyes

What will I do to get this job?

The logic of one piece connecting to another

Application filed behind another

Handshake and conversation about his experience at another

Job that he hated hoping to get another he didn't

But he knew he'd hate it nonetheless

The idea of doing what he wanted to do

No longer made sense to him or his family

His dreams were now pressed down like the suit he borrowed

Away the words swept through his mind

Remembering a job he could have taken ten years ago

Though he didn't want it then, but still wishing

He did to be living with its rewards

The rewards of his hard work

Are piles of papers read by four people (including himself)

He always thought that he had something to say to someone

Who would then have their lives changed because of his words

Which now tapped springs of loss and self-pity and hate

A waste, a dream, a selfish wish to be something more

A break in the chain, a stick in the wheel, a bird, a homerun hitter

Of midnight snow and golden fields and body floating notions

His eyes tried to keep the line of words in check

As his heartbeat reminded the rest of his body that it too was a muscle

This job I will get, this job I will get

By saying what they wanted me to say long before I broke away