Mission Tire Factory, 1969

All through lunch Peter pinched at his crotch, And Jesús talked about his tattoos, And I let the flies crawl my arm, undisturbed, Thinking it was wrong, a buck sixty five, The wash of rubber in our lungs, The oven we would enter, squinting ---because earlier in the day Manny fell From his machine, and when we carried him To the workshed (blood from Under his shirt, in his pants) All he could manage, in an ignorance Outdone only by pain, was to take three dollars From his wallet, and say: "Buy some sandwiches.You guys saved my life."