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Bricklayer Love

by Carl Sandburg, 1918

I thought of killing myself because I am only a bricklayer and you a woman who loves the man who runs a drug store.

 I don’t care like I used to; I lay bricks straighter than I used to and I sing slower handling the trowel afternoons.

 When the sun is in my eyes and the ladders are shaky and the mortar boards go wrong, I think of you.

Published in Cornhuskers
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