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 again for the nod, Zod.

:)