WELD

In the cold morning of a Dandenong day, i wait for the foreman, shivering, cold in my bones

and i watch so many men in factories with fog drifting in, and theres the job, in a concrete pit

with welders flashing across metal bones, and the humanity comes to call, with people in a job

and life comes to call, with fields, and sun, and rivers, and times better spent than working for a richer man.