trout [ 7 ]
Lisa Williams[ 1 , 2 , 3 , 4 ]

2
 

the papers are straightened
the buttons depressed

my screen saver is whirling blue lines with an energy I don't have
I'm seven minutes away from walking out.

I watch the grey backdrop behind the docks
I'm working for a man obsessed with economics
and a finger that pokes at miscalculations and irregularities
to form a tedious trickle of formal e-mails, signatures and papers to file.
His sharp eyes complain to me.

Has he locked up his own history in the same security conscious manner that
he locks the door of my office every time he leaves it,
his brushes with angels and devious spirits,
the laughter of children, bouts with drunk men, the kiss of his daughters,
forgotten.
 

  © 2000



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