Drinking in the Company Truck

We’re six, tossing glass beer bottlesat the hole of a fire pit. Six worn through

back pockets. The print of chew-disks. We spitred. We smoke. Binocular women

on speed boats. Call their chests bald eagles.Jail bait. Joke about one’s daughter’s age. Six

experience labor devaluation—ex loggers ex construction. Six thieves

in a field of onions. Cry while skins open.The freeway heat. Cry drinking water

bottle whiskey. Corona from an emptyPepsi. We’re six hated. Six sexist.

Six reactions to one’s dying wife.The wind chimes she cut from cans of Bud Light.

How, without one, five fight. Knuckles twisted white.Five sweep webs off the ceiling slats

of a duck blind. We’re flashlights scouring that dirt roadlooking for one’s lost pocket knife.