Issue
#3

May
2009 

2 poems by David S. Cross

Clutter

There are papers strewn about my desk
Each has print or handwriting or yellow
highlighted sections
Some have graphics: pictures
I look from one to another
Read but cannot comprehend
I look at my monitor
More words, more graphics
I read another paper on my desk
The words are nothing
I read the monitor
More nothing
I try another paper from my desk
Nothing
I don't understand
I move a file
Grab another file
Shift papers
There is sound among the papers
A whine from an aging microprocessor
Voices in the background
Speaking more words
I don't understand
The day has turned inside-out
Bright sun is ineffectual
Bright smiles are unattended
Dark shadows ring the brightness
I am in a tunnel
It must lead somewhere
But I don't know where
Nor if I should go

© David S. Cross

Fire Brigade

For a short time
a couple of hours
this morning
it seemed to click
the corporate goals
the business plan
my enthusiasm
achieving the targets
I was on fire
a real producer

Then you walked in
looking as you
always do
a picture of
something more human
the fire went out
I was ashen
in your heart
but still alive

© David S. Cross

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