Oh Five Eight Poem by Robert Eckstein

Not heroes? Don't believe it!
Day after day, married to your mill,
Dit-happy, a life of endless random groups.
Shift ended, beer and sleep, and then more groups.
The glowing R-390, the dots and dashes,
You saw and heard them in your sleep,
And couldn't know what awful words and actions
Would spring forth from your work.
And when you snapped,
Tore off your cans,
Smashed the Remington to the floor,
Went on too-long a drunk,
Or just could not return to work,
No sympathy or gratitude;
Only the hard, cold words
'He couldn't take it any more.'
Well, I was there,
And this is just to let you know
That I admired you.