Poem #2: Technician
Clean-shaven and adorned in white,
We drove from point A to point B throughout the night.
At $10.50 an hour,
Our financial prospects were dour.
Some held badges while others did not,
We dealt with the infirmed, but not the hot.
From transports back home to pumping on a bum ticker,
It was rather disheartening to see a life flicker.
While the pay was meager and the hours long,
Most persevered, determined to stay strong.
Many aspired to drive that big red truck,
Though quite a few didn’t give a fuck.
Some were destined to remain for the remainder,
While others wished for careers with less danger.
Regardless of the goal or hardships endured,
Most were proud of their deeds, whether large or obscured.