Posted in Lies


solitary advantage afforded an interviewee
the unequal triangle
panel and table confronting single chair
renders visible
affirmation or alarm – confirmation is perpendicular.

The principal turned 90°
her eyes put the motion
a nod seconds credentials as acceptable.
Candidacy is a finalist. So far so good.

A pause.
another pause.
One matter needs to be addressed
“ the group you… er…the successful applicant
will be working with is poor and aware…..and…. ”
a third pause.
“And ”
I seem…“ah…a little…um …a little too… ah… middle-class.”

Present-day circumstances concur
history offers a submission
of time spent in factories, kitchens, killing plants
working alongside threadbare spirits in thrift shop clothes.

Both look ahead – address heard – jury unmoved.
Attendance is thanked.
Contact promised.
The verdict delivered. By mail.

Two weeks
God’s assigned convalesce time
medium to low grade anguish.
second date dumping
failing an exam
not getting the job.
The day is mild and untroubled
traffic lights share the unurgency
change can wait.
And wait.

Two drivers turn toward the other
palms up good natured forbearance.
Both are acquainted. Briefly. Very briefly.
One could not be expected to remember
a principal who empathises with poor people
at the wheel of a large, late model Mercedes Benz.



Most of my life has been spent on the bench, occasionally called into the game by extravagance or attenuation. Waiting has turned a loner into a recorder - nondescript and inconsequential, more not noticed than overlooked - the non-vantage point of children not yet considered old enough to understand. Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry is a lifetime of picking anecdotes up and not throwing them away. Stories collected like odds and ends placed in a box in the basement, the garage, the garden shed - uncertain as to what their use might be but knowing that one day there might be one.

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