Posted in Passages

Work

Names – come and go
and
apart from the safe, utilitarian, the boring :
John, Peter, Mary, Sue
mark an era or epoch
the rise of royalty, the fall of faith.
He was the only Lionel I ever knew,
a name on deathrow
disappearing from birth lexicon as he came into being.
The Lionel talking to the TV interviewer was
greying and receding – but definitely him.

Cut to
2 students vacation jobbing as farm labourers
both on the threshold
status: amorphous
no longer adolescent, not quite adult
no longer university
not yet career-ed –
the days of heaven.
Golden weather, decent pay, a good boss
hard work, physical, over in eight hours, the rest ours.
Mateship and ribaldry – keeping an eye on each other
and watching backs.
Cut back
a sombre man, burdened and wearied down
talking slowly
announcing the closure, and loss of 200 jobs.

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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.