Posted in Passages


A mistake undoubtedly,
should have known better, should have known it didn’t matter –
didn’t matter what the manager of 41
would think of the opinion of a part timer of one
as incongruous as centre stage actress
seeking advice from a stagehand.
Perhaps it was flattery
or desire to help
or just plain ego
or just timing –
the afternoon quiet between shifts and less frenetic.

Did I think she did a good job?
did I know how she was perceived?
For the first,
everything was accomplished on time
to an acceptable standard and within budget
so the answer had to be, “ yes.”
The second
“spit it out,”
water cooler, tea room consensus
was someone with the manner of an owner
and output of an employee.

My opinion is never again sought
nor am I spoken to
unless unavoidably necessary and
always with rigid brittle courtesy.



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.