One of the darker months The phone rarely rang Her typewrite ribbon fresh The keys unimpressed Cartridge paper laid in the tray Gathering a carbon copy of dust Once the post was checked Orders filed and queries placed in pending She'd roll the chair under its desk Lie on the floor And sleep
Next door, under neon I sat each day Writing out lists of prospects From Kelly's Directory and Kompass Industrial estate after industrial estate Postcode by postcode For the territory salesmen Occasionally compiling a report about small electrical domestic appliances Or drafting the blurb that would sell Slow cookers, steam irons, sandwich toasters I turned up most days Before the news of Lennon I couldn't imagine
She and I spoke so rarely I forgot her name, she mine The thin-windowed false wall Partitioned us Her with perpetual weariness Me with accumulating grief I wonder still What brought us together?
compared with the Sun everything becomes grey-scale without perspective
n.b. It has been a challenging few days, putting fingers to the keyboard as impossible as joining like poles of two magnets. The ‘must post’ became ‘can’t post’.
Now, a shift. Was it the sunlight? Was it the experience of movement in daytime? Was it enjoying catching up with distant friends during the Twelve Days of Christmas? Was it remembering no employer owns all my time? Was it a conversation? Was it spending an hour cleaning the bathroom (don’t ask)?Was it hearing the wren singing?
The shift is back ‘to ‘I post‘. Easy enough to say…
all those hours used up while outside weather happens meaningless tokens
n.b. Herzberg was right, hygiene factors, such as the work environment and pay, are nothing more than satisficers. I look at my salary statement and think, I am giving up living for this, just so I can afford to live?