Sounds of Work

Works going on down the street.

I can’t see it, but there’s plenty

Of noise coming this way. There’s

The noise of machines and trucks

Coming and going – grinding and

Whirring and crunching, the usual

Sounds of men at work; no, better

Yet – the eternal sounds of work

Getting done. The gangs of slaves

Slaving over the pyramids must

Have sounded like this. All that

Sand and geometry playing out.

Or the sound of that day they built

Rome. The Colosseum alone must

Clamored, like this, for attention. 

I’m feeling what all those Pharaohs

And Emperors must have felt with

Noise playing out down their streets.

My gathering may be smaller, but

With all their machines and voices

Raised in the eternal workmen’s

Chorus about building, the sound

Must be almost the same.

         $50.20

The amount is there

Hanging in space.

I owe them

This amount.

It’s overdue.

I owe an overdue

Amount.

They’re sure I do.

This second notice

Seems serious.

They’ll offer a plan

To pay the amount

Over time

Monthly installments.

When I ask why I owe

This overdue amount

They become vague.

I just wonder

How I can owe and

They can’t tell me

Any details about

What they did or

What I might have done

To get this

Now overdue amount.

                   11:07

11:07 it says, even though 11:08

Is ready to pop up, a foregone

Conclusion. It does that, keeps

Moving up, moving along. It’s time

And never waits, is never polite

About the way it treats us. There

Once was the minute hand always

Sweeping along, chasing us as we

Made the best of what’s happening.

Now the numbers in the bottom left

Corner of the screen measure us

Push us, pull us, threaten us, cajole

Us, remind us, remind us of these

Numbers piling up. Am I late again?

Early? Then, what’s next to do, to be

Done? 11:07 is moving fast, is getting

Away, became 11:08, 09 …. While I

Was sitting here trying to still their

Shifting, their forever mounting up.

It’s now 11:26. 19 minutes have gone

By, disappeared into where I’m going

Moving into time, becoming part of

The past that’s kept carefully by my

Laptop, down in the left-hand corner

Just above the day/month/year that

I’m stuck in.