General-Zod wrote:

> 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....!

Hello again, my friend.