By: James H. Duncan
Ralph the intern didn’t like mehis name was Chuck or Davidor something and he didn’t likeme at all, I’m sure of itRalph was an agreeable sortnever complained and I feltgood about our easy rapportthen I sent him for coffee“Ralph, it’s 8:30 - coffee break?”Ralph was a good sportabout his role as gopherwhich was good for mebutRalph took 3 hours getting uscoffee and I got the distinctfeeling he didn’t like memy coffee - cream / sugarturned out to be black / decafI wasn’t sure what to make of itit was cold and half full3 hours lateI set Ralph up on a datewith the file office and a dust panto my chagrin, my project fileswere never seen againI sent Ralph to the shipping officeboxes and boxes, bricksfake addresses and ugly deadlinessomehow, my personal account billdoubled that monthovernights to Topeka, KStouchémy disregard for his name stepped upRalphie-boy was my new bestest palRalphie-boy was my new chum, my amigoRalphie-boy hacked into my plannerRalphie-boy was sent to useless meetingsRalphie-boy threw away my plantsRalphie-boy was sent to excel trainingRalphie-boy photocopied my high school picRalphie-boy was moved to the basement officeRalphie-boy hacked my myspace profileRalphie-boy lost his internet privilegesRalphie-boy took my ex to dinnerRalphie-boy was framed for stealing pensRalphie-boy took my sister to dinnerRalphie-boy got sugar in his gas tankRalphie-boy proposed to my sisterRalphie-boy got a visit from Tony “The Arm” MangioRalphie-boy asked me to be his best manRalphie-boy received a dollar store steak knife setRalphie-boy outcooks me every thanksgivingRalphie-boy’s pie always seems to be eaten by the dogRalphie-boy beats me at golf every weekRalphie-boy’s kid’s lunch money finds its way to my pocketand today, as we stood at the 14th holeI 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“thanks”“was that all? I feel silly now, David”“my name is Chuck, asshole”Chuck divorced my sister that afternoonI was their lawyer, and he signedthe papers with that very penI thought that was a nice touch(James H Duncan is a dedicated and emphatic hermit who currently lives in thedesert by day and dreams of his New England home by night. Nothing pleaseshim more than eating alone in a busy restaurant with a good book, takingthat book out to a movie, and afterward, home to see how far he can go withit without feeling guilty the next morning. More of his work can be seen atwww.jhdwriting.com.)Labels: James H. Duncan, Poem
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