SORTING THROUGH METAL
The duration of time here is like a sheet that's
flimsy over things - covering furniture and the
legs of chairs. I know what's beneath it all, but it
stays well hid : a loading dock with two Spanish
guys laughing, the ductwork of a new building coming
down off a truck. The workers splurge their time in a
happiness and a merriment of mirth - loud noise,
laughter, donuts and coffee. I watch enough to see it
all. The model shop, one over, still closed this early
morning, displays its planes and boats and cars. Each
so nicely done : perfect gluing, no splatter or overflow,
smooth painted finishes and all the decals just right.
It takes an old-line Hobby God to do all that. No one
works intensely any more. The Inspector, with his
clipboard - and his hardhat on - is looking up,
with a scanner of some sort in his other hand.
I wonder what he sees. I wonder what he
is looking for. All this metal. I wonder,
are we as dull as sheets?
No comments:
Post a Comment