::Literate Blather::
Thursday, February 01, 2007
Poem: New Intern

By: James H. Duncan

Ralph the intern didn’t like me
his name was Chuck or David
or something and he didn’t like
me at all, I’m sure of it

Ralph was an agreeable sort
never complained and I felt
good about our easy rapport

then I sent him for coffee

“Ralph, it’s 8:30 - coffee break?”

Ralph was a good sport
about his role as gopher
which was good for me


Ralph took 3 hours getting us
coffee and I got the distinct
feeling he didn’t like me

my coffee - cream / sugar
turned out to be black / decaf
I wasn’t sure what to make of it
it was cold and half full
3 hours late

I set Ralph up on a date
with the file office and a dust pan
to my chagrin, my project files
were never seen again

I sent Ralph to the shipping office
boxes and boxes, bricks
fake addresses and ugly deadlines

somehow, my personal account bill
doubled that month
overnights to Topeka, KS


my disregard for his name stepped up
Ralphie-boy was my new bestest pal
Ralphie-boy was my new chum, my amigo

Ralphie-boy hacked into my planner

Ralphie-boy was sent to useless meetings

Ralphie-boy threw away my plants

Ralphie-boy was sent to excel training

Ralphie-boy photocopied my high school pic

Ralphie-boy was moved to the basement office

Ralphie-boy hacked my myspace profile

Ralphie-boy lost his internet privileges

Ralphie-boy took my ex to dinner

Ralphie-boy was framed for stealing pens

Ralphie-boy took my sister to dinner

Ralphie-boy got sugar in his gas tank

Ralphie-boy proposed to my sister

Ralphie-boy got a visit from Tony “The Arm” Mangio

Ralphie-boy asked me to be his best man

Ralphie-boy received a dollar store steak knife set

Ralphie-boy outcooks me every thanksgiving

Ralphie-boy’s pie always seems to be eaten by the dog

Ralphie-boy beats me at golf every week

Ralphie-boy’s kid’s lunch money finds its way to my pocket

and today, as we stood at the 14th hole
I said “you know, David, this is stupid.
whaddaya say we wipe the slate clean?"

Ralphie-boy pondered this

“can I have my pen back?”

“……fine” I said digging into my man purse


“was that all? I feel silly now, David”

“my name is Chuck, asshole”

Chuck divorced my sister that afternoon
I was their lawyer, and he signed
the papers with that very pen

I thought that was a nice touch

(James H Duncan is a dedicated and emphatic hermit who currently lives in the
desert by day and dreams of his New England home by night. Nothing pleases
him more than eating alone in a busy restaurant with a good book, taking
that book out to a movie, and afterward, home to see how far he can go with
it without feeling guilty the next morning. More of his work can be seen at

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