Old concrete jack hammered
into small pieces
voiding my long ago labor.
Each slab laid there with great care
43 years ago
when I was young.
I hauled, spread, tamped down
and trowel finished
to amateur perfection.
The only salt finish
came from my brow
that hot July day 43 years ago.
Now bam-bam the jackhammer sings
as it chunks my work
for the waiting wheelbarrow.
The dissemblers move with the grace
of experience and careful scripting
by a master choreographer.
This is their thousandth performance
since taking the show on the road
and everyone knows his lines.
Forty-three years of service dismissed
in minutes, laying bare
long hidden soil.
Then as the curtain falls
a quick change of the stage
and the actors again enter stage right.
Begin the creation dance
with the music of the mixing truck
pounding out a rapid rhythm.
Muscled masonry mimes
become dance partners
with graceful power moves.
Their movements match
the gushing stream
of grey concrete
Dancer’s much practiced silence moves
respond to the flow of spewing
concrete in tsunami flood.
Awkward piles soon become as pliant
as the sleeping yellow dog
on the hearth.
Swish, slosh and the concrete
becomes a patio floor -
art work of the master labor dancers
Doug Minnis
November 9,2011