Morning becomes office à gogo



Originally published in The Evergreen Review Issue 119 in August, 2009.

Radios beg only pennies a day     Advances outnumber declines

Lo and behold straw turns to gold     Incomplete proteins combine


At work, we are adequately staffed. For weeks on end we stay the course, tending to the flame of our purpose. Five o’clock comes, five o’clock goes, servers up, servers down, claws come out, asked and answered. Voices flying, some of them are mine. “Is that yellow thing the sun?” “I couldn’t pick my wife out of a line-up.”

Bring me your poor, your tired running gags. Children sprout up overnight, like little IPOs, like magic beans. Japanese for lunch, third time this week. Disenchantment breaks out the champagne. Mixed blessings in disguise are where you find them.

Did I mention we have three War Rooms? And that I’m a temp? Long-term, but still a temp, a flex-time temp. Months pass, they pass like so. . .

Four days more on this assignment. What comes next? Maybe nothing, maybe all the tea in China.

And I spin upon my Herman Miller chair!