By J.J. Vaughan
The construction site was booming
Roofers were swearing over blaring stereos,
3 PM summer sun was beating down.
Pushing a wheel barrel all day,
A bead of sweat dropped from under my hard-hat
And over my safety glasses,
Almost impairing my vision of a jogger:
Low-cut tank top.
Shit. I’m one of those “creepy” construction guys.
Don’t stare, I think.
But just then she looked up at a shirtless roofer:
I should become a roofer.