Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Sliding Door

At eighteen, my first day on the job, I was sent to the factory to retrieve some shop drawing.
The large plywood door was closed, it being winter.
I could not push it open.
I could not pull it open.
So I stepped back and hit it hard and low.
As it swung up I rolled under.

Lying on the concrete floor amid crates of finished stone,
I looked up, into the eyes of Ralph Stiel, the loading dock foreman.

He said who are you
I answered Joe Conrad

He replied, must be Walt's kid.
Then went back to his clipboard check list.

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