It was my first time in his office,
I was the contractor’s representative
he, the client –
a big client
a million-dollar tender when $100,000 gave change, on a good house.
Sometimes it’s 50/50
but this was 55/45 – at best
more than marginal, not quite blatant.
staff confidence is fence sitting –
not yet of an opinion to stay,
I said, I knew I was asking a lot
but I really had to win this one.
Throughout he had not interjected
asked for clarification
or shown emotion.
Now, he removed his glasses,
looked directly at me and said, “yes, you do.”
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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