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The cold the cold creeping into bones

(no matter the layers of clothing and

subcutaneous fat of which we rant)

as we sit or stand for hours on end

in this one place, a long sunless day

into evening no end in sight wondering

why on earth in God’s name in hell

we ever thought this might be a pleasant

way to earn our keep.  The minutes creep by

along with all thoughts of remuneration

replaced by the simple desires for hot tea,

a warm bed, a scalding tub in which to soak.

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