Sails in the Sky

Wash and clean;
wipe and dry;
that’s what I do all day.

It’s free time;
lighting a cigarette,
I squat down,
back to the wall,
and wipe my face with the towel
that’s wrapped around my neck.

I look up
at those towers
that are like sails in the sky,
painted gold and orange
by the dying sun.
They seem so far away.

Then tiny yellow lights on the sails
start to twinkle
and I can imagine
the family sitting down for dinner –
Pa, Ma and the kids –
chatting and smiling
amid the clatter of forks and spoons.

I take a drag on the cigarette
and watch the grey tip turn red,
then the smoke rings
floating away.
Pa and Ma are no more.

I’m hungry now,
have to grab a bite;
that’s when the yellow lights of the car arc in.
“How long is it going to take?” he asks.
“About 15 minutes, sir and it will be spotlessly clean.”

Wash and clean;
wipe and dry;
that’s what I do all day.