The gasman's Lament

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

A poem on the life of Gas Attendant's who pump gas; what goes on behind the scenes from a POV direction.

The Gasman's Lament

Wake Up; At the crack of dawn

Or the dark of night

Wake up; in the middle o the day

Or anytime

Cold or Hot weather

Gotta be prepared

To breath in that pungent smell

Of that processed black gold


Working hard, Working slow

In the rain or snow

In the brisk wind

Under complex clouds

Attending to customers as they come and go


Some with never a thought Window's turned up; or doors hardly open

Two eyes peering out

The only light in a dark tunnel

Not a tip or a thank you

Just the stench of the poisnous gold

as the only memories left behind


Some do think

With a tip or a quip

to help make a better day

An understanding shared

To keep moving on

We work and work

Sometimes a break

When it's slow

Or to buy some food

But always moving

With vehicle after vehicle


Oh, there are good days

When things are slow

and the day goes smoothly

Or when things go fast

and the people are thoughtfull

There are bad days

When things are slow

And you need a dollar to get by

Or things are fast

And you have to attend ever short while

Even while you're eating


Still we toil and toil, through and through

For a less than average salary

Sometimes with a good boss

Sometimes a bad

But life goes on

And weather the

Job is a building block

Or our lifelong American Dream


We'll work

till our shift is done

Go home, get by

Anyhow we can

And speak or think

The gasman's Lament.

Submitted: April 21, 2012

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