Dumping Everything Out at Zine

By Demetrius

I heard there has never been a zine on construction. With my experiences with construction I thought I could write one. Since it had been a while since I’ve done any writing, Shaun and I sat down this morning and wrote this poem by Shaun asking me questions and me giving the answers. So here it goes— I hope you feel it.



Dump Trucks

My uncle drove trucks—dump trucks.
I went out on some jobs with him.
We’d start by getting up around 5, 5.30,
Getting dressed in suspenders and orange shirts
With reflective strips going across.
When we’d walk out, it’d be dark
I’d be feelin’ good. I like morning breaths
for some reason. When I inhale that crisp air
I just feel like moving.

We’d hop in the car and drive for fifteen minutes
To the trucks.
The trucks be looking like toy cars—
like little dump trucks you used to play with as a kid
except they’re thousands of pounds. When I see ‘em,
I be wanting to drive.

We start our truck—a red one. We call it Optimus.
When that engine starts it sounds louder than a baseball game
After a home run—they got a reason to holler.
We let it warm up.

My uncle—I feel like trucks fit him.
When he’s rolling, he changes the shifts,
Drinking his coffee and talking on the phone all at once.
He seems like he is where he needs to be.
He respected his truck—never going over the speed limit,
Running lights or nothing like that.

As we hopped on the freeway on the way to a job,
The truck would feel like we were running out of gas or something
The way it pushed me back and forth in my seat.
After about a hundred feet and passed the third shift, it would even out by being a smooth ride.

We’d arrive at our job and every time the rocks hit the inside,
I would hear it like a water tower getting knocked over.
The back would dip, sometimes push forward.

When I’d go out on the jobs and see my uncle
It’d make me want to be a better person by doing
What he does,
Working the rest of my life.
In the working world, I learned
We all work together
When we get the job done,
We all go home on a higher level
Just because we know
We all worked as one
And did what we was supposed to do.


Reflection: I have never done anything like that before. The bad part is I had to write thousands of words, the good part is I mostly knew the points I was talking about. It was great that someone was there for me so when I got stuck he would help me get back on track.


1 thought on “Dumping Everything Out at Zine

  1. I love how you honor your uncle by admiring his hard work and teaching you about his work. Great description of riding in the truck. Thank you for sharing your experience with dump trucks!

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