55er: Thankless

All day long, through sun and rain, I man the signal.
Often without a post, in the center of the road.
Sometimes hapless, sometimes helpless.
Swallowing dust, breathing in smoke, directing unruly motorists.

And what does my city reward me with, at end of the day?
Ruthless, biased criticism. With not a single thought spared.

3 comments to 55er: Thankless

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