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.....!

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

>
>>
> Excellent rendition of a moment in time..... One of your all-time Hall of Fame productions...!

I'm fond of this one, myself.

:0