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                                              深夜十二点

                                              他精瘦的身躯

                                              套着那身沾忙泥浆的大褂

                                              站发黄的灯光下

                                              搅拌着一大堆水泥浆

                                               原来  他是个晚班民工

  

                                               月底了

                                               他吃完冰凉的午饭

                                               心里却是热呼呼的

                                               因为可以发工资了

                                               可当他来到老板的面前时

                                                 心

                                                被一句“最近没钱发”

                                                摔得粉碎

  

                                                抹着心酸的眼泪

                                                拖着没带的解放鞋

                                                电话亭旁   拨通了家里的电话

                                                听到了久违的声音

                                                电话那头

                                                是他的妻子和儿女

                                             

                                                他无意的拿着一张旧报纸

                                                上面刊登着关于保护民工的文章

                                                 冰凉的心底有了一丝安慰

                                                 想起家中听话孩子

                                                 孤独的心底却也幸福

                                                  因为

                                                  他不想让孩子也是民工