Last day on the job meant ensuring lines were tight,
tanks filled, hoses pumped,
boots heavy, dry
Days of volunteering had long gone, years ago
hours of training, gym time, study time,
little time to rest, scant time for family,
or friends fishing
Last day on the job meant sleeping light
ready for alarm’s alarming alarm,
pushing through lack of sleep,
ever conscious of the task
the task
Route to the alarm during last day on the job
allowed a precious moment spent wondering about
stretching a fifty-thousand dollar city pension
through twelve months with sufficient money left for
moderate vacations, finishing the basement (finally),
trading in the beater for a “new-to-them” pick-up.
Colleagues wept openly during the last day on the job.
The hardest moments were spent
with the crew Captain making the long walk up the driveway
to break the news to his wife about
his last day on the job.
Last day in the city was spent with laces tight,
hockey bag full, fans pumped,
stick taped, dry
Years of minor leagues were well past due
training program’s ritual, airline schedules,
****** steak dinners in greasy spoons
left little time for autographs, rookie card poses,
or friends fishing
Last day in the city meant sleeping late
through three time zones, restless in anticipation of front desk’s
wake-up call.
On route to the game during last day in the city
included hushed coach and trainer meetings
with news about trades,
draft picks, adequate compensation
including a five-hundred-thousand dollar signing bonus,
full-cost moves, maybe a trophy wife
The hardest moments of that day
were spent withholding tears
during a dealership visit with his girlfriend
to cancel the BMW lease on
the last day in the city.
I have struggled for years about not paying adequate salaries to firefighters, police, teachers, soldiers and others who do our public bidding - yet we have no trouble paying MILLIONS for someone taking part in the business of sport. I get it and I understand it (I think) and still struggle with it.
