Orphaned Islands (Un)poetry

“ 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.”

Laughter and applause greet the words
neither is deserved
A mixture of platitudes and dilute humour
it’s what the occasion demands.

There are no expectations
except the expected
predictable and sanitised
brief and meaningless.

Deception as protocol
principle faces down temptation.
Defects are scribed with invisible ink
virtues shone with floodlight.

Difficulties never existed
only solutions that might have been
goodwill abounds.
The perfect employee
sad to see you gone
the place will never be the same.

 

The neighbour on the other side advised waiting five years,
if the new arrivals are still in residence
say hello
good advice, and backed by experience
she had lived in the same house for 49 years
but not valid in this case.

The did become neighbour introduced herself first,
coming around pre-purchase ostensibly to check fences,
but really us.

Perhaps embarrassed about her effrontery or
subterfuge
she said she was on her own.
“On my own” – she didn’t actually specify
or say, separated, divorced, estranged
but said she had  had a son
so we figured he must’ve been some sort of relationship, at some time.

One day when weeding the garden
directly beneath the fence
I heard the materialism of a teenager
wanting and wishing out loud –
then
“ask your father.”