Posted in Rituals

Back Door

“ No, I’m really sorry, I can’t do that
Could you …..?

No, I’m simply not allowed to.
Would you …. ?

No, I’d really like to be able to help, but this is non-negotiable
Can you ….?

No, sometimes there’s a loophole … but not this time.
What if ….?

Hell, if I did that, they’d sting me up – by the testes
How about …?

Look, I’m sympathetic …. I bend the rules when I can
and if they can’t be bent … some flexing might be possible …
but this is watertight
I’ve heard …..?

Some things pass without being checked upstairs –
but this won’t – no way.
Is there ……?

No, no, please…. I’d lose my job
Are you able to ….?

NO, LISTEN, I JUST CAN’T DO IT
okay, okay don’t get shirty.”

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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.