Posted in Love


Accommodation and food came with the job –
neither extravagant,
the food rather institutional
and a single room
with bookshelf and wardrobe.
A television and refrigerator could be had on request
signed up for,
no money
just an agreement to return at the end of contract.

I asked the accommodation manager what it was worth
“a replacement – seven or eight hundred dollars.”
Replacement: that’s what had happened –
one of my staff
had asked to keep his television until the last day
and then replaced it –
with a cheaper model.
Did the better one go with him?
“Did he steal it you mean…… I would imagine so.”

A black moment, I could feel it coming
interviews with security.

Time …….
the click of a camera, the creep of a glacier
a bride to walk up the aisle ….
a new divorcee to leave a lawyer’s office.

The year had gone as well as I hoped
I felt pride …..
not immense
but some
and now
at the end of the game
a dropped ball I could see it
a request for the contract to cover client’s loss
it would have to be explained – a black mark.

The man across the desk spoke
“I know you’d have had nothing to do with this
and would not approve ….. I can bury this one.”



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.