Note to world #9343

I was hanging around work last night. Trying to get a few things done – even when I know nothing is ever really “done”……

And the night janitor came by. He was taking a very long time to clean the whiteboard near my desk – a large whiteboard covering almost the entire wall upon which I write every few days – not work things, but all sorts of quotes to make myself think and feel and breathe. And quotes to which some people recently have started to reply – writing their own thoughts near the quotes. It’s a little quiet communal activity, my own personal version of the employee garden.

Finally, the janitor turned around to my work station – where I was one of the only people left – and told me that he looks forward to reading the quotes every evening. He told me that sometimes he even writes them down so he can share them with his wife and children. He said it was inspirational to read them. He wondered if I knew who put them there.

I was so pleased to tell him it was me and I thanked him for his gratitude.

Honestly, I haven’t felt this good about words in a very long time.

fellow travelers

she was sitting, impotent
in her car, when it struck her –
Sisyphus was probably an
extreme commuter, too.

in all likelihood, he lived around
the corner from her
and drove a slightly battered
Dodge Caravan

with political stickers jammed
next to peeling sports decals and
a cutesy stick figure rendering of
his nuclear family unit:

wife Merope, sons Glaucus,
Ornytion, Almus and Thersander
– and a wobbly circle representing
the family’s pet boulder

no doubt, he traveled the
same curvy parkways she
traversed, the ones that flooded
from slight rains and

seemed only to veer
directly into the path of
bright sunshine at all times
of the year – a preternatural stonehenge.

he was surely the man
weaving across every
lane but never moving ahead
as she crawled forward,

the miles clicking
slowly down
but the minutes
piling up:

the GPS not really
taking either of them
any closer to
their final destination

Note to world #4993

From the start, it was an odd sort of day.

It was a foggy, rainy, white-knuckle three hour commute to work.

And it was clearly going to be a one muffin, 5 cups of coffee sort of day at the office, too.

And those were just the numbers…..