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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=432149" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Evelyn</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=432149" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">I don't dread coming here these days.<br>Okay, I do, but not so much as I did<br>Several weeks ago. The job remains<br>So dull as ever: slitting rolls of colored<br>Paper into smaller rolls, which printers <br>Turn to little stickers, 'Great for grilling! , '<br>Placed on trays of meat. The atmosphere<br>Remains oppressive. Someone from<br>The owner's clan emerges from an <br>Office every hour to complain I'm<br>Slow, and, I, while saying, 'Well, <br>I'm trying, ' dream of using filthy<br>Fingers to collapse the bastard's<br>Throat, and dancing on his lardy<br>Corpse, but, on the far side of the<br>Floor, in hair net and a smudgy<br>Smock, a lovely Filipino woman<br>Runs a press and waves to me, <br>And we've been having lunch<br>Together. Soon, I'll ask her out<br>To dinner; Friday, when we both<br>Are paid, and, I'm so certain of her<br>Answer, I feel little dread.</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Lawrence+Beck">Lawrence Beck</a></strong></div>

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