Posted in Antarctica

Credentials (II)

Who hasn’t
gritted teeth
or exhaled
hissing or sighing
“shit wouldn’t stick to him, her, them.”

We were all cock a hoop
hundreds apply
50 are selected
curiosity blends with self-congratulations.
What is sought?

The boss is absorbed by people
as card sharks by new tricks
warm
frank.
Happy to talk about the process.

“. . . . . . . and then
someone like Steven
transmitting such strong common sense
certain to be reliable
and not behave badly.”

12 months later
a new summer
another Antarctic season
I inherit Steven’s role at the airfield.
I need someone there I can trust says the boss
swelling pride accepted hurriedly.
Day one
the charge petty officer coiled
lessons learned tough
a sophomore who will not
“have any of that crap of that guy from last year.”

The boss has made a field trip to the airfield
in response to his question
I tell him it hasn’t been easy
that a taste lingers from my predecessor
of laziness
of sloppiness
of brazenness
of couldn’t give a fuckness.

A wide grin breaks to hearty chuckle
“ oh Steven….. he knew it was his last season.”

For the back story click Backstage

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Author:

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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