10-05-2016, 05:31 AM
This changes style as it goes for dramatic effect.
AFFIRMATIVE ACTION
As the ten wheeler left the loading dock, his gaze went from bulking crates
to Alan, come to help. Alan always came to help, though with the company
only six months longer and dark as he was light. Alan taught him how to open
cartons, slicing sides not tops so layers of product could be quickly removed.
Alan told him which supervisors to trust, which to avoid. Alan this, Alan that.
Helpful yes, but he would have learned all that by himself--sooner or later.
While Alan was only a high school grad, he had a bachelor’s degree
tucked for six years in his bureau. Same pay, same hours for both-
until Alan was promoted and moved elsewhere on the corporate campus.
Affirmative Action, thought the red-haired college graduate, condemned
to the same pay, complaints, remedial training and repeated orders.
The world wasn’t fair.
With his parents off partying, the darkening house is his.
Straightened from bending low to burn his diploma in the fireplace,
his eye catches the elegant chandelier twelve feet from the floor.
Check living room doors, assure they’re locked.
Chandelier tight to the ceiling? Knot at its base double tied?
Four-foot rope moving smoothly through the cylinder of eight careful turns?
Looped over, around neck, pulled snug? Feet square on step ladder?
A quick one-footed shove, ladder clattering to the floor,
its splayed legs collapsing with an unheard wooden bang.
The body jerks with a lifelike twitch just strong enough to prompt
a gentle chorus of faint tinkling from the fixture's crystal pendants.
Outside, as if impelled by Wagnerian opera, a car’s demanding horn mocks the end,
its swerving headlights briefly sweeping away living room shadows, signaling a curtain's
closing on an empty life.
Alan is the only company representative at the small funeral. He had sent a modest bouquet
with an awkwardly-written note, and now speaks softly to the guilt-ridden, broken parents.
Affirmative Action
AFFIRMATIVE ACTION
As the ten wheeler left the loading dock, his gaze went from bulking crates
to Alan, come to help. Alan always came to help, though with the company
only six months longer and dark as he was light. Alan taught him how to open
cartons, slicing sides not tops so layers of product could be quickly removed.
Alan told him which supervisors to trust, which to avoid. Alan this, Alan that.
Helpful yes, but he would have learned all that by himself--sooner or later.
While Alan was only a high school grad, he had a bachelor’s degree
tucked for six years in his bureau. Same pay, same hours for both-
until Alan was promoted and moved elsewhere on the corporate campus.
Affirmative Action, thought the red-haired college graduate, condemned
to the same pay, complaints, remedial training and repeated orders.
The world wasn’t fair.
With his parents off partying, the darkening house is his.
Straightened from bending low to burn his diploma in the fireplace,
his eye catches the elegant chandelier twelve feet from the floor.
Check living room doors, assure they’re locked.
Chandelier tight to the ceiling? Knot at its base double tied?
Four-foot rope moving smoothly through the cylinder of eight careful turns?
Looped over, around neck, pulled snug? Feet square on step ladder?
A quick one-footed shove, ladder clattering to the floor,
its splayed legs collapsing with an unheard wooden bang.
The body jerks with a lifelike twitch just strong enough to prompt
a gentle chorus of faint tinkling from the fixture's crystal pendants.
Outside, as if impelled by Wagnerian opera, a car’s demanding horn mocks the end,
its swerving headlights briefly sweeping away living room shadows, signaling a curtain's
closing on an empty life.
Alan is the only company representative at the small funeral. He had sent a modest bouquet
with an awkwardly-written note, and now speaks softly to the guilt-ridden, broken parents.
Affirmative Action