Aircraft Mechanic's Dirty Lament

The alarm goes off and I hit the snooze
Knocking it off and under the bed as I do
Hands rubbing the sleep out of my eyes
Hands with a little dirt under the fingernails
Black soot ground into the pores
Giving a grayish tinge to the typical Crayola Caucasian color

Breakfast and morning shower ticked off
Fingers tickle the carbs on the old Triumph
Coming away smelling of gasoline and thinner
An old motorcycle smell that always brings a smile
As I sniff the fingertips like a dirty old man might do
Kicking the bike to life with youthful gusto

Rolling into work five minutes early
Time enough to scrape the dead bugs off my knuckles
Before diving into the Pratt & Whitney engine teardown
Pulling off the hot section for later consideration
Coked oil residue and carbon black painting me steadily
Until it's obvious this stuff will not clean off readily

But I make a game try of it anyways
As lunchtime rolls around at last
Celebrating with fresh french fries and a burger
Hot off the silver skinned roach coach outside
Sitting down heavily and digging right in
Though it soon becomes apparent that I just can't win

The fight against the filth is clearly lost today
As I see that despite the soap's inability to do it's job upon aircraft engine stain
It appears that the oil on the french fries is up to the task
For the fries still in the bucket now sport all kinds of black smudges
Marking the close passage of an apparently still dirty man
Who sits back in momentary despair of every having truly clean hands

But then I get over it and enjoy the food
Dirty or not