Warehouse: my normal day

4:45 alarm automatic coffee black no sugar. Frost glazes the street. Bus early. Driver sleeping in the draft from the doors. Next to man whose breath stinks of pig shit. Spat out beside warehouse – breathing steam trains with the spiders. Reading old notepads – looking for beautiful phrases and hooks. Night blue sky pinned up with Venus. Street cleaner whine. Floodlights reflect from the underside of power lines. Dustcarts frolic in the dump, their amber warning lights whirling up the walls. The smell of maple syrup from the bakery that isn’t open – tease. Rattle shutters peel back. Crash. Into the warehouse. The air is slab cold. Space-heater roar and rattle like a dying tractor on the roof. Log on, ram-bars, cones, customers, lost stock, inaccurate counting, mammoth delivery, cardboard crush, management smoke, fly infestation, blocked sewer, batteries depleted. Hand over the baton to the next shift. Roll dice – sign out.
I’m a writer on a bus.

–Benjamin F Jones 
Take a tote

The air is slab cold

 

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About Graphite Bunny

I am a writer working in South Wales (UK). I love pizza, photography and moist clay. When it rains I catch drops in my open mouth. I create poetry, flash, absurdist snapshots and humorous fiction.
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13 Responses to Warehouse: my normal day

  1. Pingback: At the start of a shift | Graphite Bunny

  2. I tagged you. Hope you’d like to play (it took me a while to work out how to take up the challenge of this interblog game!). Have a look at my latest blog post 🙂

  3. Very evocative piece of writing. Excellent 🙂

    Thank goodness I don’t still have to get up at five in the morning to get my daughter to the childminder and start an early nursing shift. Nowadays, I can sit and enjoy maple syrup on my porridge in peace and quiet, instead of having to wait for a horrid NHS canteen breakfast after two hour’s of work.

  4. jonth says:

    This piece snagged me good and proper with its sense of the winding elastic of a workday and the release of clocking off; of being my own once more.
    Thanks.

  5. Beautiful composition. I especially like the way your tone conveys the mundane in an elevated way.

  6. Keith Parker says:

    Good one!
    You could turn this into an essay or short story.

    • Thank you. I am collecting an archive of details from my workplace. One day there will be something written called ‘The Drunken Plumber’ but not until they can’t sack me.

  7. boneland says:

    A rather good writer on a bus, I’d say.

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