Bob By John Stupp

the left hander who worked
at the engine foundry in Cleveland
wanted to be a pro bowler someday
he set up and alley in the tool crib
and practiced on the 3 to 11 shift using plastic pipe for pins—
when he wasn’t bowling
he was throwing flashlight batteries
I had to sweep up when he was done
never was Ford graced by such productive employees—
this went on all summer
while the engines we made were shit
and once assembled
the cars stunk like a movie you know how it ends
and is all your fault

By John Stupp


John Stupp is the author of the 2007 chapbook The Blue Pacific and the 2015 full-length collection Advice from the Bed of a Friend both by Main Street Rag. Recent poetry has appeared or will be appearing in Drunk Monkeys, Cactus Heart, Vending Machine Press, Icarus Down, Weirderary, Wordrunner eChapbooks, SHARKPACK Poetry Review, The Pittsburgh Post-Gazette and on the radio show Prosody. He lives near Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania.

Leave a Reply