it hits me.
like a ton of bricks,
but without the bricks.
had there been bricks
i’d have surely be killed.
confusion seizes everything,
what is this?
i was told i have soft hands.
it’s true, but they’re not newborn.
it was an interaction with an older man who was a brick layer assistant.
i was having a smoke.
he asked my why i was alone, then inquired whether i worked here.
i told him we have different breaks and yes, i work here.
he showed me his hands,
gnarled gloves unflinching of manual labour.
what he didn’t speak to me, his hands spoke.
he didn’t know who i was,
and i didn’t know who he was.
his advice, tailored more towards manual labour,
made me appreciate my job even more.
he told me if what i work gets me from point a to b,
that’s all that’s needed.
i don’t disagree with him there.
we are constantly traveling between points,it’s just the matter of connecting the dots.
my break had ended and i thanked him
for what i didn’t think.