Tag Archives: work

Drive North on 95, Over the Merrimack, Leaving Newburyport. Watch All The Steel Ships Float.

I’m not exceptionally old,

but I feel like I’ve met all the types

of people there are to meet.

I sit in this training room and

look around at all these faces

I’ve seen before. There’s the loud Italian

girl, she has so much to say, the young wanna-be druggie boy

(oh he’s just so mysterious), a mother beyond

her prime, an elder who should just retire,

a man roaring about his joyous divorce,

two gossipers at my table – trying to figure out

why I didn’t talk for the first week but now choose to

ask and prod at topics less discussed (I might be at this job

longer than I hoped), a girl with a pinched nose whose mother

never yelled at her, another with tattoos and opinions because

she “sometimes goes out for drinks with friends” and other times

makes comments just to look out the corner of her eye to see if

anyone still cares, and of course someone gives her that attention she craves,

there’s a man with a bald head, quite but pretentious, another with military boots

who drives his motorcycle into work and talks about

how he was a barber, one trainer loud and old and

counting the minutes until her smoke break,

another loud and young, who “hates having the serious talks,

but they have to be had,” and a little queer human resources

man who doesn’t come around much, an old mail room man,

who I’ve never heard spoke, a security guard who focused too much on what

you see above the desk line, and all

their doubles and triples, and me – watching and biding my time.

—————————————-

Old trees and iron,

Take me where you took them all,

I’ll breathe in and love.

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One Morning Commute

I know.

I know by her eyes mostly-

then there are the other tell tale signs:

the lip bitting

the hair flipping

and

the finger scratching.

Those just made me hard

and

I’ve had enough.

“Can i finger fuck you all the way to work?”

She laughs but I know by her eyes.

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My equilibrium is off is code for your pulling me apart.

(two page gap)

Dan begins to talk, but I can’t understand him. My ears still feel like there cupped. I say out loud,

“Dan. I can’t hear you.”

I get further away and he says,

“Pat! Turn around.”

I heard him that time. I turn around and walk towards him. As I’m walking towards him, he say’s,

“What the hell is this about you not being able to see or hear? This happens every time. You just make up some excuse to try and get out of doing work.”

— happyMess (transcribed by Sangretti – 2012/09/13)

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