Will Dockery wrote:
> General-Zod wrote:

>> Will Dockery wrote:
>
>>>>> Passage Through Ennui

>>>>> 35 years ago
>>>>> it was another
>>>>> long bitter Summer
>>>>> that dark humid July 1985.

>>>>> I was working
>>>>> the graveyard shift
>>>>> operating one of the service elevators
>>>>> at Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>>> Galatea and I
>>>>> had split up again
>>>>> earlier in the year
>>>>> after our explosive reunion
>>>>> in 1983.

>>>>> It ended quickly
>>>>> after a huge fight
>>>>> with her brother
>>>>> over an old score
>>>>> usually forgotten.

>>>>> I won the fight
>>>>> but actually lost.
>>>>> Tracy gave up
>>>>> and Galatea left with him.

>>>>> The year
>>>>> it all came apart
>>>>> seemingly permanent.
>>>>> Two years of good times
>>>>> ended in a moonshine rage. .

>>>>> All I could see was
>>>>> a shut down gloom.
>>>>> The only laughter I heard
>>>>> was down in the break room.

>>>>> The brown haze of factory air
>>>>> angry faced people
>>>>> and the music
>>>>> of metal machines.

>>>>> Working all night
>>>>> sleeping all day.
>>>>> Sipping coffee
>>>>> to chase the road aspirins.

>>>>> Sitting on the steps
>>>>> over by a giant fan.
>>>>> keeping up with my workers
>>>>> usually five ladies
>>>>> at the machines.

>>>>> If one of the ladies
>>>>> needed anything
>>>>> they'd just look my way
>>>>> and wave.

>>>>> Several times a night
>>>>> I'd make a buy and fly
>>>>> bringing back coffee for them
>>>>> on makeshift cardboard trays.

>>>>> Jotting down notes
>>>>> doodling narratives
>>>>> creating reality
>>>>> building Shadowville
>>>>> from the ground up.

>>>>> Riding my elevator
>>>>> up and down
>>>>> creating samizdat
>>>>> in the smoking booth.

>>>>> Down to the Reel room
>>>>> my elevator filled
>>>>> with empty racks
>>>>> to bring up the full ones
>>>>> for the ladies upstairs.

>>>>> All night
>>>>> keeping it rolling
>>>>> making it smooth
>>>>> for the ladies
>>>>> to make production.

>>>>> Finally to clock out
>>>>> as the sad whistle would blow
>>>>> we would stumble out the gate
>>>>> into the grey dawn.

>>>>> Some headed for breakfast
>>>>> and a beer
>>>>> while always I headed home
>>>>> for sleep
>>>>> as quickly as possible.

>>>>> Living at Mockingbird Court
>>>>> where I had shared a trailer
>>>>> with my friend Bob Whitman
>>>>> an Army vet turned factory worker.

>>>>> Bob worked downstairs
>>>>> at the Autoclave
>>>>> the machine that steamed chemicals
>>>>> into the yarn.

>>>>> Bob's sidekick Jim Berg
>>>>> ran the huge Dryers
>>>>> a super hot
>>>>> chemical steam bath area.

>>>>> Jim married
>>>>> my childhood friend Pamela
>>>>> and passed away too soon
>>>>> from a heart attack

>>>>> I'm not sure how workers
>>>>> down there
>>>>> survived the heat
>>>>> and harsh smell.

>>>>> Actually
>>>>> I noticed not so well
>>>>> as years went by
>>>>> several old friends
>>>>> still haunt me.

>>>>> There was a guy named Bill
>>>>> from Chicago
>>>>> found in the Dryer room
>>>>> coughing up blood from TB.

>>>>> Chip, another Autoclave man
>>>>> was found
>>>>> giggling in the warehouse
>>>>> up in the bales of fiber
>>>>> one line of meth too many.

>>>>> Little Rosell
>>>>> on the Reels downstairs
>>>>> hot little femme fatale
>>>>> who I would know better later.

>>>>> An unteresting lady
>>>>> in her Daisy Duke shorts
>>>>> and "Flashdance" shirt
>>>>> she was the supervisors' choice.

>>>>> Pipe smoking old Mr. Green
>>>>> found in a hallway
>>>>> died there of old age.

>>>>> The list goes on
>>>>> many who did not survive
>>>>> until the shut down day
>>>>> another poem for another day.

>>>>> At that time of the night
>>>>> with machines all running right
>>>>> many of us could wander
>>>>> have some coffee
>>>>> and get some fresh air.

>>>>> Bob was a good friend
>>>>> at the job
>>>>> quick with a joke
>>>>> or pass his pipe for a toke.

>>>>> Many smokers and drinkers
>>>>> would hang out
>>>>> on the porch
>>>>> outside the Autoclave room.

>>>>> When he heard
>>>>> of my latest domestic disaster
>>>>> Bob offered
>>>>> to rent me a room.

>>>>> In a rented room
>>>>> in Bob's trailer
>>>>> like a scene from The Odd Couple
>>>>> without the laughs.

>>>>> The bottom fell out
>>>>> we didn't get along
>>>>> outside of the job
>>>>> so I moved out
>>>>> to North Highland.

>>>>> I moved in
>>>>> next door to the Holt family
>>>>> old school mill folk
>>>>> in the former mill village.

>>>>> Don, Walter and Karen Holden
>>>>> all worked at
>>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill
>>>>> like their family before them.

>>>>> Karen worked in the supply room
>>>>> Walter ran the Autoclave in Plant One
>>>>> Don covered my job
>>>>> during the say shift.

>>>>> For some reason
>>>>> it was important to them
>>>>> that they tell Mr. Newberry
>>>>> that I was their cousin.

>>>>> I never did figure that out
>>>>> but it was cool with me.
>>>>> I liked them all
>>>>> they were down to Earth folks.

>>>>> The day I moved in
>>>>> I had my music playing loud
>>>>> outside my window
>>>>> was the river
>>>>> and then Alabama.

>>>>> I would never have imagined
>>>>> how that area would look now
>>>>> with the row of houses demolished
>>>>> and with the Riverwalk below.

>>>>> I was two floors up
>>>>> but I still felt
>>>>> like a mole
>>>>> like a subterranean.

>>>>> Wake up
>>>>> it was Monday
>>>>> I could hear Billy Teakson
>>>>> blowing his horn in his pickup truck
>>>>> down below.

>>>>> Billy was an old school
>>>>> Card and Blending room man
>>>>> never late
>>>>> sick or well he was on the job.

>>>>> Slither down the stairs
>>>>> so far so good
>>>>> jump in and ride on
>>>>> the the alternate universe
>>>>> the factory.

>>>>> He never failed
>>>>> to have a spare Budweiser
>>>>> and a smoke
>>>>> for the short ride to
>>>>> Shadowville Spinning Mill.

>>>>> We'd get there in time
>>>>> to stand around the parking lot
>>>>> and catch a few words
>>>>> with the crew.

>>>>> Then the whistle would blow
>>>>> and it was on your mark
>>>>> sail through 12 hours of dream
>>>>> in another land.

>>>>> Grabbed a cup of rotgut
>>>>> mill coffee
>>>>> and then
>>>>> in a determined stroll.

>>>>> Up to the Bobbin Winders
>>>>> and the upstairs Reels
>>>>> to catch everything up quick
>>>>> get the game going right.

>>>>> Then down the elevator
>>>>> to the Spinning room
>>>>> sweat shop
>>>>> a dozen ladies
>>>>> smoking and yelling conversations.

>>>>> Loud roaring
>>>>> antique seeming machinery
>>>>> all all points
>>>>> no escape from
>>>>> the chaos and thunder.

>>>>> Get it all caught up
>>>>> then down to the sub basement
>>>>> to pick up the prize left for me
>>>>> by Don
>>>>> my first shift doppelganger.

>>>>> Any time Don
>>>>> skipped out early
>>>>> and left everything
>>>>> off the mark, it was no problem.

>>>>> He'd leave me a joint
>>>>> at a certain spot
>>>>> in the sub basement.

>>>>> The basement was
>>>>> creepy enough
>>>>> but the sub basement
>>>>> seemed right out
>>>>> of a horror movie.

>>>>> Needless to say
>>>>> I'd keep my head down
>>>>> and would try to get out
>>>>> of the sub basement quickly.

>>>>> I had been distributing
>>>>> my broadsheets
>>>>> among my co-worker friends
>>>>> news of the day
>>>>> with a twist.

>>>>> They were entertained
>>>>> by my poetry
>>>>> and comic strips
>>>>> looking for themselves
>>>>> in the lines on paper.

>>>>> Pat, the personnel director
>>>>> called me in her office
>>>>> and put the kibosh
>>>>> on my broadsheet.

>>>>> My poetry and art zine
>>>>> had violated the strict
>>>>> "No Distribution" policy
>>>>> that no outside reading
>>>>> was permitted inside the mill gates.

>>>>> Since I had not been
>>>>> aware of this policy
>>>>> I apologized
>>>>> and kept the broadsides
>>>>> outside the gates from then on.

>>>>> Absolutely
>>>>> no foreknowledge
>>>>> of what was coming next
>>>>> taking one minute at a time.

>>>>> Getting from one minute
>>>>> to the next
>>>>> always in a hurry
>>>>> caught up in the time
>>>>> flashing by.

>>>>> Not even giving a damn
>>>>> or so I told myself
>>>>> by that point in time
>>>>> hoping for a speedy turnabout.

>>>>> I never could have foreseen
>>>>> twenty years later in 2005
>>>>> standing in a crowd
>>>>> watching the old mill in flames

>>>>> I was living
>>>>> in the worn out townhouse
>>>>> at 3226 River Avenue
>>>>> once part of a mill village.

>>>>> First week of the month
>>>>> was always annoying
>>>>> so much noise
>>>>> as I tried to sleep.

>>>>> All day hearing Mr. Newberry
>>>>> beating on the sides
>>>>> of the houses with his cane
>>>>> trying to collect his rent money.

>>>>> Alone
>>>>> in my upstairs office
>>>>> writing my manifesto
>>>>> in poetry and comic strips.

>>>>> Right side duplex
>>>>> next door to the Holden family.
>>>>> Two stories overlooking
>>>>> the dark green Chattahoochee.

>>>>> If I had the foresight
>>>>> I would know sitting and waiting
>>>>> was wasting precious time
>>>>> the cruelty of moments.

>>>>> Time can't be saved
>>>>> like in a bank.
>>>>> I thought I was biding my time
>>>>> while I was losing everything.

>>>>> As the North Highland
>>>>> sun blazed down.
>>>>> And as the cool white moon
>>>>> seemed to watch over it all.

>>>>> The big rooms
>>>>> and empty house
>>>>> suited my mood
>>>>> my lonesome and blue.

>>>>> Looking out my upstairs window
>>>>> dabbling on a canvas
>>>>> not a clue
>>>>> what was to come.

>>>>> Walked down to Forte's Pharmacy
>>>>> for a beer and some smokes
>>>>> the place is long gone now
>>>>> 35 years later.

>>>>> Back then it was
>>>>> the general store
>>>>> where the locals stood around
>>>>> shooting the breeze.

>>>>> Although relatively close
>>>>> the walk was winding
>>>>> to get around
>>>>> the far side of the factory.

>>>>> Found a girl named Margo
>>>>> she lived
>>>>> a few doors down
>>>>> from my place.

>>>>> She said she liked my music
>>>>> but had thought Bob Dylan's song
>>>>> was The Clash
>>>>> but I found her naivete charming.

>>>>> Took her out and played the game
>>>>> but my heart
>>>>> just wasn't in it
>>>>> I never saw Margo again
>>>>> after that night.

>>>>> At that time all seemed lost
>>>>> just goes to show
>>>>> I'm not much of a fortune teller
>>>>> but kept hope alive.

>>>>> Many nights seemed like others
>>>>> so I trudged
>>>>> through the days
>>>>> wrote poetry
>>>>> through the night.

>>>>> Crossed my heart
>>>>> and looked forward
>>>>> to good luck
>>>>> and happy days again.

>>>>> No happy ending
>>>>> was expected
>>>>> in the foreseeable future
>>>>> just more of the same.

>>>>> -Will Dockery

>>>>> ------------------------------
>>>>> From the Shadowville Mythos poetry blog:
>>>>> https://shadowville-mythos.blogspot.com/2021/04/passage-through-ennui.html

>>>> Lovely, quite an epic poem.....!

>>> Thanks for reading and commenting.

>>> This poem is another based on true events.

>> Excellent rendition of a moment in time.....!

> Good morning, thanks again.

Right on....!