Their Secret Sign [revised] Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Don’t have a favourite book today, sorely need
emotional strength; magazines & newspapers
only inflate the gross physical aspects of being
human, mental & spiritual aspects are fine, but
emotional and physical elements are a mess -
irritation with a colleague suddenly deciding
humming is the thing to brighten her day and
by default all others’ in our open plan office

Any magical tale could prod my cerebral state
to excited from depressed, enable me to tackle
the next awful translation, look up terms to be
presented canned worms - of 5 meanings I’d
always choose one that doesn’t fit, a gift to be
constantly wrong as the criteria for choosing,
rhythm and music, doesn’t apply & my brain
can’t see meaning as being more important

It’s okay to feel better at role-play; who shall I
become, best use my Fedora, play James Bond
creeping down passages stealthily, greeting our
Director cheerfully so he won’t suspect I’m Her
Majesty’s Agent & licensed to kill - imagine me
pulling a gun on everyone who makes a sound
that gets on my nerves because they all work
for Dr No - and that is their secret sign