Bricklayer Love
I THOUGHT of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store.
I don’t care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than I used to and I sing slower handling the trowel afternoons.
When the sun is in my eyes and the ladders are shaky and the mortar boards go wrong, I think of you.
Cornhuskers. 1918.
