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Array
(
[sid] => 174299
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Work Days
[time] => 2012-11-14 15:46:52
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => Here he comes now sharp suit and penetrating eyes one of he cigar men. I can see this mornings plums have lost their succulence as he chokes on the dusty debris kicked up in a manner rude by the frenzied endeavours of a worker Now Perturbed by the stale stench of sweat as he paces past our cloakroom towards our office area still not up to his standards Today he's meeting our workers this is his occasional courtesy call and he's prepared all of his sickly platitudes but in the boardroom we are still described as insignificant, dispensible and born with bad genes The workers are in the canteen stirring milk powder into sugarless tea and observing their pale reflections in pictureless frames I've seen the way he flinches in their presence But they all thing the sun shines out of his behind the type of man who lightens the burden of his conscience with a credit card behind a bar at christmas theres sometimes dregs of genuine appreciation dregs, dregs scraped from the skid-marks of his decaying dignity He cracks the whip and we skip with our servile smile and our desperate manner the sponge he squeezes has been squeezed dry I've felt the sting when it's wringed I think of a family I don't see enough The way we devour our tin-foil dinners with whatever time we have spare The way we haul our orders around at the end of the day with whatever energy we have left all that gets us through is the thought of a bit of peace on the weekend a drink, a smoke, a laugh, a few bets and the thought of our holidays coming up the caravan in north wales we havn't paid up for yet [comments] => 0 [counter] => 89 [topic] => 21 [informant] => flavellm [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => Lifepoems )
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