sitting uncomfortably while leaning too far back
in his desk chair
saying "Jesus Christ"
He hopes his youngest isn't pregnant
His eyes are tired
He later tells me
it's time to delete all of the
dead customers in his database
"Been open too long I guess,"
Everybody's dying, he says,
Stifling laughter.
I ask
Another man how he is
and he collapses into tears
because he's dying
and apparently
I'm the first person to ask that
in a long while
He cries for a half an hour
then pats me on the shoulders
saying he's sure I'm a nice girl.
My coworker plays mourning mariachi
and says his fiance left him again
because she can't trust him
He punches his desk over and over
Jesus Christ.
A delivery man comments,
"It's good you're back.
They missed their shopgirl."
I sit to myself quietly typing
Pretending to order parts
Is this what it's like to have
no one to tell your sorrows to?
Do you sigh with sad eyes at the young service writer,
and cry and tell her your problems?
Because the world sees the cracked hands
and oil stains
but not a man (or men) with hearts full of things
they don't understand.
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