Intercom 87
Attention workers, Slaves to the switchboards and Protectors of the parchment, in all its forms. My voice may appear distant. The echoes ring out in synchronous delays. But as you sit there, Leaning back on the rough textured chairs, Huddling near the machines as if your life depends on them, And your mind traveling beyond the precision of the hundredth hand... I feel a deep pity, Shouting from me like a choir singing children’s soprano, Reaching out to you lost souls of confused politics and deceitful philosophies In this sanctuary of a cold dead nature. What brought you to this point that you are now? I wonder if it has something to do with the nature of faith. The medieval incantations were not good enough. Their replacement was something young and pure But soon, the flesh and blood oxides by the cold nature of ourselves. Now, he is becoming withered and frail. Do I appear to paint a beautiful picture As you stare at the calendar with the chary writing? I apologize for my captious voice. I don't think of you as slaves, but comrades and children For the struggles that lie before us. Do not give up the fight. Damn the man. Thank you for listening to this wonderful delivered panegyric.
Date of First Draft: 10 and 14 July 1999
Information: The title refers to the procedure needed to activate the intercom system at the Terminix office out in Manassas (one of my temp assignments that summer was to be Customer Service). I wrote this poem nearly a year before I heard "Fitter Happier."