from: The Alcohalted Bobble-headed 20’s

did a big pooh in the morning,
firm, bit dry, needed a push,
but long & clean, not much
aftercare, and I hoped it wasn’
the highlight of my day. I had
a job interview, I was going
to miss the appointment, I had
to get off the bus half way
because I only had enough
for one section, it was in the news—
Inspectors were on the Routes
making Drivers accountable,
they came on in twos, checking
tickets, before the rfid,
when we used cassette tape
and discman, phones without memory,
internet still with the military,
anyway I got there, was hired,
by the office relocation company.
I explained my lateness, he sniffs
the air, I’m guessing, and smelt the
whole story and why a well mannered
white man in his early twenties would
be this poor in the middle of the week.
they employed a handful of nationals
to run the teams, and filled the trucks
with traveller. we’d arrive at the depot,
get into the moving trucks, in the rear,
Animammals International: A.I., in the dark—
and drive in darkness all the way back
to where most of us had left the city from,
getting out at the foot of a building casting
shadows for hundreds of metres, move
everything out, desks, monitors, coffee cups,
water coolers, boxes of personal items,
down the lifts, into the truck, up into
another skyscraper, or a smaller building
for shrinking, or perfected business. as a reading
male I was often on the unpack side, the
placement team, referring to a floor map,
colour coded down to where the bobble heads
went on what side of the Dell.

2 thoughts on “from: The Alcohalted Bobble-headed 20’s”

  1. You make me laugh sometimes Dean like the first couple of lines of this great words again “animmamals” is in my vocab now the tongue in cheek of your writing is great

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