at the factory

lets say I was in charge and someone knocked 
I could say I was busy even if only I wanted to stay where I was thinking by myself

days I slave in a guitar factory
there is no music
the dust clings to skin and long skinny panes of glass

lets say I was on smoke break and the smoke was liquid smoke and ran down my face and let me have another break after that one, an extra fat moment

these guitars are floppy and don't pass inspection

there are animals places and materials
here is a collection behaving badly
trying for the sex look of elcetric
puddling in my hand on the assembly line

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