I thought of killing myself because
I am only a bricklayer
And you a woman who loves
The man who runs a drug store.

I don’t care like I used to;
I lay bricks straighter than I
Used to and I sing slower
Handling the trowel afternoons.

When the sun is in my eyes
And the ladders are shaky
And the mortar boards go wrong,
I think of you.

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