industrious

industriousexhaust above a side street, white into night skyup from the high tide line, from one-story, sprawling waterfront,unseen, unheard, from up here among housesdown there machinery going on unstopping into Saturday nightescaped steam unrolling, dwarfing houses and firs unstirred by the wind,the cold and tide shaping it, it lit from below by a thousand unseen sodium vapor lightsconiferous, tangible as a Van Gogh starry nightwe do things once (any more), and rarely restwe prefer to design something digitally, from an office chairhave something read about in a magazine for lunch, and move onthe work of hands is puny, almost humorless, unless it is medicine, done by microscope.doctors doing surgery listening to oldies radio. architects watching Glee as they model in 3d.nothing so pedestrian as repetition, as craft. stitches but not braces. rigor and status,comfortable wages, but nothing crass as a stain, a smudge, a worn cuff or glovethe San Francisco offices of Pinterest are a few doors down from the solar array of an REIwhich is not far at all from a Trader Joes and a Peet’s Coffee & Tea. no-one I knowgoes around the corner to the Fort Help Methadone center. but not far from there, just .7 miles north on Seventh,you come to Morphosis’ Federal Building, super green, super industrial looking, all metal veiland panels that act as thermal sinks in the afternoons, creating air flow without coalI don’t know. I just feel like we are pretty sophisticated. as a culture. that we’ll - his voice trailing off.that we’ll figure it out? laughing, her eyes on her phone, checking messages.him - I wish I didn’t have to work tomorrow.her - you’re going in? on a Sunday again?them - drinking coffee, scarves and his hat in a pile.framed by a chain store window of balanced neutrals, sharply dressed, smooth skin.pushing off in another minute.