Must Hate Finch Poem by Nassy Fesharaki

Must hate Finch

Went to help a friend
-disastrous funny day,
-marvellous encounters…

"Drop me right here…"
-I told him when over.

"I won't go till I end…"
-I told man at counter
-when got to reception

"You belong to nation…
-paid, handled by taxes…
-what is this treatment? "

I showed him the fact that
-many things are ignored
-thanks to malpractice
-or lacking the-knowledge

"I sent you emails and
-received a ‘Thank you'
-soon after it bounced back…"

I said and told man that
-I have kept all the mails,
"…are copied and pasted…"

I added threat-like:
- "…will reveal this matter…"

Came down boss to see me
-a person named: Shona…
-did her best to convince
-calming me; well-sweet,

I sat there and waited
-she went to resolve case

It took time; very long
-I sat, read and waited

Finally, exhausted, I spoke
-counter girl asked me if
-have received an email…

Shona had sent message
-not just once that again
-the first was to tell me
- "I'm here after job…"
-second one was lost by
-carelessness; as always…

We happened to know since
-counter girl used cell-text
-and Shona gave reply:
- "I have sent an email…"
-not to me, to counter
-clumsy and mistake as ever

Wanted to tell her of:
- "Bureaucracy" over all
-but she was too small…

This is the sickness with…
-…offices when grow very big…
-…men, women, the experts…
-…know only little bit…
-…their actions like needles…
-… deep can go, penetrate…
-…but never have the sense…
-…of time, care…urgency...

I sat there for hours
-Shona came once again
-worried and with emails,
-promised, explained

Therefore, I decided
-to depart; left that place
-my leaving was much like
-leaving bed when half-done
-a sex-game, still with erection
-mind, body, both disturbed


Had gone there without car
-meant to use underground

From bad things went worse
-was hard to make my mind
-could not think any more

But I am a poet
-had to find amusements
-in mind made whirlybird

This and that
-here, there
-a glance at people
-another at C. N.
-in times, I stared at
-the items in windows
-feet and shoes on pavement
-and my eyes were in search
-I planned to return
-but felt lost…

Wanted north went to south
-east and west got mixed up
-got tired in train and subway…
-went around for about an hour…

"Things happen for reason! "
-this, I heard many times
-now proved once again

Half asleep I looked up
-saw dress in pink-light
-wide open in front
-few lines ran across
-to expose her bra
-hard, black, cups apart
-cleavage there to watch
-as whiteboard in class
-on it saw the tropes
-metaphors and similes
-to narrate a poem
-on, about firm breasts
-of great and cute black girl

I, thankful, and my host generous
-she stood motionless
-no need to look around, just front…
-like days of sending Morse…
-I composed dots and lines
-receiver my brain
-deciphered the secret

Pinkish-red-spots said:
- "Acne means is young and not much sex, "

In times, she leaned forward:
- as if say: "have some more; help yourself."

Here, there, the white dots:
- "Misses some vitamins, foodstuff…"

Constant look at cellphone:
- "Is smart in her game, so perfect…"

And she did, covertly, implicit:
- "Am mature and woman, enjoy looks,
-…but please do not gaze…"

I did not; did as said; an expert in Ping-Pong
-used racket of the eyes, sent the ball
-waited her to return, then again

Long lasting was our game
-like the game of Mao-Kissinger

For getting closes she wanted excuse,
-one was the ramble of train on the curves
-I got more than my share in such turns,
-I waited when we moved straight

She was mine all the way to the end
-departed both of us at the last station
-from now Finch is where I must hate …