His Story Poem by Eric Cockrell

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i asked him where he learned to write....
'tailing a saw in a sawmill,
milking cows, hoeing acres of garden,
building houses and interstate bridges,
dolphing cloth in the mills,
loading trucks and boxcars,
cutting wood, cooking on open fires,
drinking too much, giving too much,
fighting when i had to,
raising children, loving the same woman
for years, walking with my dog....'

he pulled out a smoke, and i joined him...
we watched the evening sun go down....
listening to his story....