Stooge Operator

Twas round mid day and sweltering
When I stepped up to the wheel.
With candor I approached the box
Where an unknown presence I did feel.

Emerged a squat creature
Who cast steely gaze.
The sexless turgid went by Dawn
And had eyes alight with craze.

It announced, “Today, you shall work in a pit
Where trampolines are rampant.”
It was my task to harness children
And bounce them where the sky was lambent.

Off to my post I did make haste
Because my knees were shaking.
The scrooge’s words did chill my soul
But necessary was the money I’d be making.

The sun beat down and clocks ticked on
And soon my back was scorched.
Sweating and parched I was granted a break
To alleviate my thirst.

In my madness I juggled my phone
The screen cracked upon cracked pavement,
And without any lunch I returned to my chair
To offer myself personal debasement.

Time drizzled and darkness crept,
But I fixed on the glowing spin.
With a blistered back I saw beauty
And tired limbs were ignored by my shit-eating grin.

The next day I returned and it was much of the same
But fortune had wheeled in my favor.
Later that week I would operate the beast
That carried entire families in her chambers.

Dawn the crook-pated sent me away,
And it was under Henrik I was guided this day.
Resembling a goblin from Gringotts, he did,
And in the operator’s booth is where I undid.

The space was squashed sized like a closet
And his breath hit me like water from faucet.
Hearing his instructions filled me with trauma
Because this room was a garbage-stench sauna.

Quickly I caught on so that he would leave
And after work off my body a film I would cleave.

Uncomfortable moment #1

A pair of tan hands clip their swollen, red-cigar fingers maniacally along the keyboard—the same pair of tan hands which appear older than they are, clip along the qwerty while a pair of exhausted bloodshot eyes demands and expects them to perform outrageously above their capabilities. “Think of something”, the pair of menacing eyes are attached to a shrewd, puckered face that whips the fingers raw with expectation. “You’ve earned an undergrad in English. You should be able to write something worth reading.” Fingers will not dance along to a Fox Trot when the mind knows perfectly well they are contemptible idiots whom could not hack a Texas two-step. The mind knows that the degree they all received in English Literature is disgraced by their deplorable grammar and continuity in vagueness and casual tone. Those debased mitt hands took a beginners piano class for an elective and squashed their sausage fingers along the ivories turning Mozart into monstrous. Now, they tinkle the keyboard and the cryptic muscle spasms cosplay as productive typing but results in a fecal text that is figurative scatology discoveries. Burning eyes, foul breath, and a curved spine. The ability to sit and stare for hours and the habit of typing whilst forgetting to send cognitive thought to those bloated carrot fingers. Thank you university.

Here, in the now.

I like when things are broken – bent, rotten, deteriorating, or incomplete. The beauty of impermanence: wabi-sabi. Whenever I catch tale of a friend, unfriend, or potential friend doing what they love or just doing in general I tend to become stricken with a haphazard feeling. Something a little bit fantastic. Perhaps the tale involves this person creating cakes, necklaces or stories but it could also be mastering a field or studying the unknown. There is a part of me that clutches on to their brilliance. I want to ride their coat tails of application or effort and wind up in their life. I apply my ‘I could see myself entertaining mild success in this vocation!’ type thinking—the rarely effective vapid inspiration has left me with a bit more foresight currently. But I go back to what I know incomplete things. My interest is in a little bit of everything but no grasp of anything. And so I write improper sentences and terrible things because I think it is just amusing enough to cause some sort of joy or disturbance. Enjoy my musings and unfinished thoughts.

Well, well, well... Well!

Well, because of unfortunate family news I have crossed the world and am back in Canada!