In my pancake weather day, sitting behind glass
windows covered with sun-filtering film, looking
on wet, grey buildings painted by impressionists
forgetting to use their trademark coloured palette
finding no artistic merit in the unfocused picture
wondering why government officials have to be
cooped up like pigeons, sitting in rows like wi-
zened crows at their so-called work-stations
One day I want to compose a State Services Opera,
grey officials sitting in rows, reading newspapers, turning
pages together, a bell ringing in tea-time, people jumping
on desks and singing while dancing a state services tango*
together - “Goo-vernment, o-o-oh goo-vernment, reading
newspapers, and-a-ten-o’clock-tea-time, goo-ssipiing
about our bo-osses, and the atrocious,
end-of-year function…”
Then teams of scurrying workers enter, carrying reams of
sticky paper to mark all furniture and equipment, in the
morbid fear they might be carried away, the dancers
sitting down in their chairs; one little official dying
silently by falling into a knife – now wouldn’t that
be something!
*To the tune of the tango melody called “Jealousy”
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem