Nothing Important Poem by Margaret Alice Second

People who haven't slept - like me - and put
salt in their tea (it works beautifully, less sugar
needed to sweeten the bitter brew) can't think
clearly; my head's scrunched - like a dried-up
sponge - the valves of the transistors in my
old-fashioned mind, flickering in emergency
mode; confuse the imagery forming in the

Frontal mammalian brain - just like a TV out
of focus: I don't know what's going on & life
seems absurd and surreal, I'm ordered down
from my desk where I perched on a cushion
from my immense torture-instrument-chair &
my question Resend? is met with a negative
NO, I'm going to Scan and Send it - to me

That means Resend, but as all remarks are
met with a NO and rephrasing of everything
said, I throw in the towel and look at my dear
document - investigating an '88 murder case
in France with a bureaucracy worse than our
malfunctioning age - each and every page
proof money was spent just to determine

The murderer was gone and nothing could be
done to untangle the intrigue - this is no fun, I
sigh - history's useless & these pages only
underlines the spiritual advice to live for today;
now a colleague launches into a vibrato-song
and I replace yesterday's deathly grey & the
garish twang of our wildly gyrating crooner

With Tchaikovsky's Nutcracker dancing in my
head, my earphones pressed deep to shut out
the noise of nothing important going on…