.................................
work: microland
.................................

a cardkey will access the elevator which upsdown onto three floors of carpeted terrain and free coke. this is email heaven. this is automap road atlas.

on last employee count of monitors, figuring four per programmer, there appeared to be (accessories calculator spreadsheet print) 189 programmers, 59 writers, 29 rewriters and 9 content shufflers dedicated to this 9 to 9 called work, to this 9 to 9 called travel advancement.

and when asked in a cyberstudy about their preferred mode of travel, 9 out of 10 replied "commuting", over the bridge and through the beautiful vue. without the must of a heretothere or schedule plus exactness, the actuated yes of travel frankly didn't make sense. 1 out of 10 wondered just how much coke cost anyway.

 
.................................
work: wide screen view
.................................

a wide screen view whether popcorn is involved
is a wide screen view and gum on the floor.
and the world is the world.
how many repeats can she motion
of the drive of the lights of the chair she sits on
before a wide screen view is just a wide screen view?

jane pours the coffee each morning
like she has poured the coffee every morning.
she feels about mondays and calendars each monday and calendar
like the grinding of beans, brown and dishwater,
sitting in her morning kitchen chair.
she doesn't like the taste, is quite firm on that point,
but rebels the bitter like the crack in her cup.
she doesn't like the taste and the pouring and the cup.

each wednesday a ticket and a wide screen view
perhaps increased to double, under doctor caution,
has been known to provide 120 minutes
of motion and view, under ideal conditions.

jane drinks the coffee, pouring the drink,
and wonders if her socks have finally given out, elastic shot.
she drinks her coffee, the tilt and lips,
and pulls them up to leave,
always and again pulling.

a wide screen view of a tree of a color
as through a screen door or a xerox
attempts the translate, technologies the transvision
but the world is the world
and, finally, she knows it.

jane never liked coffee, and was quite firm on that point.
she never liked the taste and the pouring and the cup.

 
.................................
work: all in a day's work
.................................

it is 1:04 and and and
energy sits low while she waits for her
mail for a call for some ticking event
to alarm clock her sure that she is
a working breath of vital is,
a citizen in the clog

it is 1:06 but but but
her mail is slow, and the trans
lating component hasn't turned her
thoughts to french to japanese
to someone else's read-out display
of techno-jive.

it is 1:07 or or or
could it be later if
she were living under another clock?
her time change component has neglected
her personal distaste for 1:07, but in the interim
1:10 has arrived.

it is 1:12 it is it is it is
5:01, and she must remember
not to stay a minute too late.

 
.................................
work: playroom construction
.................................

on the woodly floor she sprawls, blocks unloaded, and counts the colors to make certain the long yellows and rare oranges weren't thiefed by alyssa or the cleaning lady. in this room she gathers her people, still wet from yesterday's bathtub cruise. with blocks and cars spread wide for better view, she goes about architecting culture, again and again architecting.

she builds placement and movement, and acts out the heretothere, lips moving. she constructs parking lots, daycare and churches, always in that order the parking lots first. circling around and re-parking, dropping off to pick up, she keeps her cars moving, plastic loaded.

she slurs hello with thanksbye and churches her people, a matter of seating in lines. and then, abruptly, admiringly, she upseats to leave to unpark to drive, let's park again. and the blue shirtbody blond haired dog named barky family always gets the open air limo, always. and the chip paint yesterdays watch this whirl like a gate.

.................................
Kathleen Nering
.................................

 
Copyright © Kathleen Nering
September 1996

...two poems in this room by Jenniffer Lesh...
the coffee you poured on my words
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