I know it sounds funny
To make your money
As a Wrangler jean inspector
It is one way God protects her

In faith's bubble
Sixty in a bundle stamped everyone
Twelve a day then was my trouble
It was fast and it was fun

That was at seventeen
I was on my own alone
Forth dollars a day was keen
For one so barely grown

Then at 23 more woman than less
Building travel trailers
150% percent production my test
Moving fast one savors

Because then was strong
Worked hard and long
Doing finish work
Dreams lurk

Old girl's glow
Get it out
While you can know
What your mind will spout

Upon your fingers
Words melt
Time rhymes

Now time has moved on
My production has gone
From 110% to 98%
I'm mostly spent

From lack of sleep
Or sleep so deep
For many hours
Because of loosing production's powers

Except in smiles
The foolish whiles
Of trying to be real
Tell the world what I feel

Or if they don't want to know
Don't come here to this heartunes show
Where I am a clown to many
I do get down aplenty

Cannot have what I want it taunts my pen
Keeps me awake to spend
My time on production poetry
Where I go set it all free

In rhymes that flow
It's so I'll know
What I am thinking
Because mostly I'm sinking

Into depression
The recession
Stay in bed
Cover up my head

So you write
Late at night
Or in the early morn
In love forlorned

Or life untaken
You feel forsaken
Doubting it all
Sometimes you bawl

And that friend
Is all okay
Let it all out in
Production poetry to pray.

4/18/2009 0215 cj

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