THE PERMATEMP CUBE CAMP

 

 

'This is where I work,' he said,
waving an arm in a circle of sad
as though he’d just missed the bus.
'All these cubicles with their little pictures

and could-be contents
of my wife's handbag –
photos of kids and grandkids,
trinkets and confectionery,
lovers and Lotto tickets.

 

'I know a few workers by name,
but lots come from other countries
and only half drink coffee.
The young woman who sits here
had breast cancer
last year and two kids:
so we sent flowers
for her chemo.’ 

'And friends?' I asked,
'Friends?' he smiled, surprised.
'No: this is just the place
where each day
we all concentrate till five.’