Poetry in the Oven.. Day Three
Two Poems
.POETRY IN THE OVEN.
Answer phones,
Lay the labels,
Make the pies,
Roll the slice,
Dress the crust,
Box 'em up.
Pizza boy make
Your funds;
Get home, smoke
Your bud;
With a day
Off have some
Real fun.
We don't have
Much except
Ourselves and
The time we get
To run.
Get that dough
Off of dough,
Cheddar out
Of cheddar,
Paper into paper.
Grab life,
Make love,
Write letters,
Make breadsticks
Better.
..
.DAY THREE.
I though it was a frail
Ass old man by the way
He spoke over the
Phone.
"I only live down
The street, I'll
Be there in 15 minutes"
Amoe noticed the ticket.
"Oh shit, you took
Drunk ass Corey's call
For the first time?"
"Oh, he's drunk"
"Yeah! you can't hear it
In his voice?
He tries to order a
Pizza and not pay for it"
There was a warning
Under the notes
Saying that as well.
He showed up an hour
An a half later.
I was at the register
To assist him.
I gave the total.
"I was told it would be $21"
He looked to the back and
Saw my co-worker
"Go get your buddy" he pointed
And tried to shout but very low
"Hey, buddy!"
I called him over to deal with
Drunk ass Corey and took over
Making the pizzas.
That won't be my last
Encounter with him I'm sure.
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