This is the cannery experience which I did for 25 years, till they downsized and I became flotsam. I wrote this on a piece of paper towel at 4:05am, the graveyard shift, while running the seamer, a machine that seals lids on filled cans of product. Mind numbing work, the blue collar dollar.
So he’s way up on high
lookin’ down,
Watchin’ everythin’ on the belts,
tomatoes mos’ly.
The cans, they rattle on through,
high ‘n’ low,
to be filled.
And the seamer is jammed again,
tomato jam.
And the wheels go ’round.
Somethin’ is stuck in there so
get mechanic.
Lost a piece of machine in
some can?
Got to fix it though, can’t stop
quick, put some
piece in.
And the wheels go ’round.
Finally the hour to go home
comes ’round.
All night has been non-stop
cans forever.
The spinning in the head
turning brains.
And the wheels go ’round,
…. wheels go ’round,
…. go ’round,
…. ’round.
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