The product

Harvested from ye olde voice notes:

The engine roars and water drips
off the back of a tractor trailer
as it tips up a hill on the Baie Verte highway
and I think this is what it looks like
when you don’t have the product,
when the product isn’t there

Fish spill into an empty bucket
and men shovel snow on top, because fuck it,
why not make a dollar while the sun shines
and the forklift lays it on a big flat bed truck,
and I think this is what it looks like
when the product isn’t there,
when you don’t have the product,
when you need the product,
when it’s going somewhere
but somewhere is not here

The big number 8 is on a 5 ton truck
and I’m guessing in 2 or 3 days that’ll be it –
we’re outta luck, we’re outta time, there’s no more line,
shit, no more plant and one day real soon now
our little shanty town will shut down
because we don’t have the product,
because the product isn’t there

And all of Garland’s hacks on the assembly line,
all the moutainous stacks of snow and the sexual thrills in the pines
on the looming little hill behind the drooping little school,
will slide down the offal hole of history

This is what it looks like
when you don’t have the product,
when the product isn’t there,
when it’s shipped elsewhere,
when the will to survive fails you,
and the urge to continue goes on