Out back a train rumbles past blowing that fucking horn. We have the warehouse doors open to let the sunlight burn in. The train shakes my desk so my pens roll and my keyboard and monitor vibrate. Commuter train I can tell because it flies by fast. The freight trains creep, rolling and rolling. I like to watch those because its like an art show with all the graffiti. Some of the best artists along the East Coast have hit these trains (and some of the worst). Spray-paint and sunshine. Spray paint and stormy sky. A giant baby blue dick shooting a huge pink load rolls by every day at noon. It brightens the rest of my day.
I eat my lunch at the wrap and ship table. Its hot back there in Summer but I dont care. It faces East five miles from the beach though you’d never know it stuck in these rows of industrial buildings. There are only three of us here. Three souls run the entire branch of operations. Quoting, selling, writing orders, pulling, packing shipping. Our main head-quarters is located in Paris, France. The company said to be the largest supplier of electrical goods on planet earth. With so many branches in the U.S., Canada and around the world you can transfer jobs from state-state or even country to country when the opportunity arises. But, I have the house, car-payment, mortgage, wife. I have 44 birthdays and only a month away from my next. The thing is when I visit the cabin up in the mountains I long to live and be there and when im in a cottage on the beach, I want to there. You see, in your mind its always anywhere but here or someone else besides Him/Her. And yes, my life is fine Ive nothing to complain about. It’s okay. Home is cool. But am I really home? maybe there is something, someone, someplace… even if just for a small single moment in time..
The building is shaking again. Train passing. More spay-paint. Fat bubble lettering and another dick freshly painted spewing strawberry milk all the way across from front to back.