- 6 -

They're Building a House Next Door
Ron Lauderbach

Clay tiles on weathered rafters weeks after 
delivery look weary, like the plumber’s  
countenance as he carries out a shiny sink,
the wrong model, and drops it into his 
truck-bed. His truck needs tires. He might
be waiting for a bargain or it could 
be news from his oncologist. I see two 
electricians wander the job, eat their 
lunches, laugh a lot, and leave. A concrete 
finishing crew works fast because two guys
didn’t show up on this hot day and the 
mud doesn’t care. Their boss jabs his finger
into the chest of some guy who’s holding
a big bucket of paint and I think about 
Jim Rhoads, the meanest foreman I’ve ever
known, who years ago had me in tears 
before draping his arm around my shoulders 
and saying, Don’t worry kid, this place may
 get built in spite of us.