The new ergonomics were delivered 
just before lunchtime 
so we ignored them.
Without revealing the particulars 
let me just say that 
lunch was most satisfying. 
Jack and Roberta went with 
the corned beef for a change. 
Jack believes in alien abduction 
and Roberta does not, 
although she has had 
several lost weekends lately 
and one or two unexplained scars 
on her buttocks. I thought 
I recognized someone
from my childhood 
at a table across the room, 
the same teeth, the same hair, 
but when he stood-up,
I wasn't sure, Squid with a red tie? 
Impossible. I finished 
my quiche lorraine 
and returned my thoughts 
to Jack's new jag:
"Well, I guess anything's 
possible. People disappear 
all the time, and most of them 
have no explanation
when and if they return. 
Look at Tony's daughter 
and she's never been the same."
Jack was looking as if 
he'd bet on the right horse now.
"And these new ergonomics, 
who really designed them?
Does anybody know?
Do they tell us anything?
A name, an address? Hell no."
Squid was paying his bill
in a standard-issue blue blazer. 
He looked across the room at me 
several times. He looked tired, 
like he wanted to sleep for a long time 
in a barn somewhere, in Kansas. 
I wanted to sleep there, too.

Poet: James Tate
Poem: The New Ergonomics
Poem of the Day: Sep 12 2002

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