They are the only ones who frustrate me. I am the only one who is irritated by them. Two solid hitches with thick bases and shiny heads like silver dollars. Two who are necessary but painful. Two to reach out and smack me in the shin. From the yard, we can see them, but my boss avoids them and says to be more careful.

Their strength is known. They send shooting pain down your leg. They reach up and they hang down and grab your attention between the oily hitch receiver and launch the sun’s powerful rays back to the sky and never hit you enough. This is how they keep.

When your knee would make contact, they’d keep getting bigger, more intimidating with each accident. Reach, reach, reach they’d say when I walk by. They reach.

When I am too tired and too small to keep reaching, when I am a miniscule thing against too many trucks, then it is I gaze at other hitches. When there is nothing left to reach for. Two who reached despite being used. Two who extend and do not forget to sway. Two whose only reason is to reach and give me a swift kick.