At the office

This is one of many passages cut from the original draft of A Fine Ending:

At the office

So I’m sitting here at work, as usual, which is:

the computer to my right, its fan humming loudly while contributing to the general computer hum insulating slightly each person’s key-clacks as they type

however, most anything anyone says is audible for about three desks in each direction

desks being in these cubicles with five-foot high walls just high enough to let people not poke their heads over to see you (that’s nice)

although where I sit there is a laser printer which is everyone’s altar – a busy spot with quick steps and shimmering paper flying out in grasps six feet from me

a regular ritual of reloading occurs always catching me by surprise as someone darts into my space

flooding my periphery yet remaining angled in their motions so as to not engage my eyes in my primitive reflex hey, my space

often resulting in uncalled-for apologies of ‘Pauvre Louis, pris à coté du printer’

advantageous at times like this, what with forbidden manuscripts to be snatched up two footsteps away

I’m there instantly – no fear that I’ll get found out

no need to run three cubicles over to find someone checking to see if it’s theirs

or reading some crazy embarassment like:

‘I love you I love you to the ends of the earth or the end if need be or your end whichever end of the candle be burning now burning burning’

crazy embarrassment

that always evaporates in advance because whatever they may imagine

(that I’m gay or that I’m a nerd or that I’m damn strange or different)

is hardly warranting my imagining what they might be thinking

what I might be thinking is the bosses’ footstep’s sounds or any footsteps aiming to stop here just a step past the printer

often to put paper in my garbage can which always leaves them hanging garbage in hand because because I keep it under my feet so I can type with my feet up

back too far back straight yet maybe a bit curved but sliding as I can tell because

because my jacket on the chair ends up in a wrinkled pile at the bottom of the backrest and because every so often I have to get up and adjust my business suit

otherwise my writing Tends To Get More Retentive

the light, of course, is fluorescent

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