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#2

 

 

 

INSURANCE CO. 1963                                                                                                 

 

The typists are in cabbage rows,

pecking at electric maws.

But for potty trips,

we don’t move till 10 a.m.

 

File into lunch room

File by coffee stand

Pick your spot from

every yesterday.

I like Rose a lot.

50 & hefted onto pointy shoe stilts,

her auburn helmet rides in place.                                     

Rose laughs & types & swears,           

Fag sticking to the purple corner of

Her Joan Crawford mouth:

“I work to pay his alimony for wife #1.”

 

Then we have Wilma from Wilmore,       

where a Methodist seminary        

forms and informs all.

No hint of paint on this one.

 

Jackie from Harlan County—

She’s gone feral here in the city.

Hickeys collide on the thick

peachy stem of her head.

 

Indeed delicious with rubyfruit

lips, broom of lashes, sheaf of sable hair.

I know why men want her.

At 12:15, lunch.

45 minutes exact.

File into lunch room

Pick your clique

Bite and backbite,

The fodder of our day.           

Jewel is a master typer

Views our drudgery as art                

here on the cabbage farm

 

Big red field paws.     

Monster turn of ankle.

She & her twin were once

divas on country radio.

At 2, we take another

orchestrated break.

At 5:15, we quit.

Carol, newly hitched,

fills us in on sex,

a huge lip sagging

to funnel her drool.

 

In the Bluegrass, early 60s,

only neckin’ & pettin’ allowed.

Only tramps go

all the way.

 

You don’t let a black girl

type here either.

The day one came to apply,

the place buzzed & hissed.

Skirts go north on Greta’s avenue.

You can see the fork. With

beehive tower (early Marge Simpson),

a definite full-blown chick

                                                           

The underwriters are all men.

Carrie has ‘em dribbling.

Rural homecoming queen,

Big-boobed, puny legs, biting eyes.

She will not age well.

==============

One day sliced into                 

Our narcotic time:

November 22.

 

I had to leave then.

Can’t think liability anymore,           

except ours, his:

Man on a counter

at Parkland Hospital,

 

Priest sweating over him.

And the wife who tried to

retrieve his brains

from the back limo corner.

 

=================

Next day, our college

football team played on.

On Monday I did too.

 

Back to the cabbage patch.

To funny Rose & zany Jewel,

To trashy Carol & wimpy Wilma,

 

To deductible        indemnify

loss waiver        backspace

     Indent      CAPS Lock

 Shift          Period.      Return.*

 

 

 

 

——Joyce E. Latham

 

*in acknowledgment of labor poet Chris Llewellyn  (author, Fragments from the Fire)