Adios, my lifelong pal — the rat race I have left
now that from my paying job I have become bereft.
The levers that I pulled and the conveyor belt I tended
are on their way to Mexico (instructions are appended).
I hope whoever gets my job down there in Guadalupe
will join the union so they can constantly accrue pay.
They say there’s money for retraining — much good may it do
to a guy who’s sixty and is slow as Elmer’s Glue.
I’ve had my run of good times; now the Rust Belt welcomes me
into some darkened tavern where I drink and watch TV.
I guess I need a hobby so on boredom I won’t champ;
anybody know what club I join to be a tramp?