Cornell C. Bachmann

Rookie (9th of July 1958 / Bedford / England)

Imagine You Are... - Poem by Cornell C. Bachmann

Imagine, you are going to a party,
which you longed see, to talk
and meet old room mates and friends alike.

Imagine, you eventually make it through the clusters of ellbows, shoulders and trampling feet.

Imagine yourself, as you are standing a foot from the doormans barring arm,
the crowd behind still pushing and shoving with a mighty strenght and one is suddenly catapulted into the space in front.

Imagine, the room you just have entered is so full of people, that they’r transpiration is dripping from the ceiling, the smokemachine exhaling a purrid smell and the bass from the speakers makes the solar plexus fibrate, which to the older generation, (or is this just me) , makes it unbearable and one must flee from the pain it gives.

Imagine, when you realize, that the ear plugs are not where they should be in your pocket..

Imagine, the relief of finding a known face.
Of giving a friendly hug with wishes for the new year.

Imagine, this face ask’s you if you could help in solving a just occured problem..

Imagine, the joy you feel, while you realize, that the situation has changed and that a spontanious and inventive person has to step into action

Imagine, you are being told that the toilettes are blocked and the waterlevel on the floor is rising.

Imagine, you are being given a bunch of key’s from the rooms in question, a pair of rubber boots to wade through the water, and instructions to where the rubber gloves can be found,

Imagine, you are being shown the room where the workers and dj’s relay and relax. Where you can change and where your coat is safe including the number on the pad lock so as to use ist on free will.

Imagine, you have taken off your boots, the gaiters if you have any, and set the mind to action as time is short.

Imagine, you are standing in the midst of a grey watery pulp of diluted toiletpaper, glad to be in sturdy Wellingtonboots, and you notice, without a dry stand On, no shoe can stay dry.

Imagine, you have just returned back to the rest room, you are sitting on a plywood box, which turnes out to be a speaker, you look around and you notice the broken furniture, the metal gliding drawer guides, the sides of a bureau of poor chip-board quality.

Imagine, you see a way, to build platforms and small bridges between the toilets and the entry door.

Imagine, the joy, when helpful hands, take the new building material to the spot in need

Imagine, you have arranged all the boards + planks and see that the effort was worthwhile.

Imagine, you have found a rusty meat hook, with this you manage to fish out the plastic cups, which blockd the toilets in the first place.

Imagine, you have fun seeing people using the new paths to relieve themselves from pressure...

Imagine, the tabs on your shoulder, from happy party goers, who congratulate you for solving this problem in an efficient and spontanious way.

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Poem Submitted: Wednesday, January 27, 2010

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