On Unfinished Overpass Arcs By Sean Ripple www.flickr.com/photos/flatlife There are men who take orders from men who are instructed by men who study how to speak in highway engineer. These men translate the abstractions of less willingly able-bodied men into physical expression. On unfinished overpass arcs of concrete and tar and wrought iron, these men hang and sweat the fluids of resignation. They do not hide behind college-educated manipulation, but take the curse of work upon their flesh. Not out of nobility but of necessity do these men submit to the whims of transportational trend. And there is a lot of us who travel their work with not a single second of appreciation. These men returning not back to the dust of the earth, but to the tar.