Lawrence S. Pertillar

Gold Star - 96,716 Points (February/'47 / Connecticut, USA)

Squee-Gee Clean (Diversion) - Poem by Lawrence S. Pertillar

It is never a good thing,
To look down one's nose...
Upon another,
With intended contempt.
Such insults,
Do not lend themselves...
To result with satisfying,
Beneficial dividends.
When deposited unforgotten,
In one's kept memory.

To ignore, loathe and abhor,
Someone seen sweeping...
Or buffing up,
An intricate inlaid...
Marble floor,
Maybe the one to invite...
To have lunch.
Or have a hunch...
Whoever does this,
Does much more.

Nor is it a good thing,
To whisper, giggle then laugh.
At someone who uses,
Monogrammed towels...
As if they were rags.
Or perceive one to be,
Down and out.
But given a 'break',
By boardroom 'big shots'...
Sitting in offices,
Atop a skyscraping tower.
Listening to classical music,
While one slings a mop.
On a foyer floor.
To remove scuff marks.
Or signs of dust drops.

'This place,
Is immaculate.'

-Thank you.
I do my best.-

No. It is never a good thing,
To be impressed by image.
With it not to realize,
Who the image maker is.
Or who may be less impressed,
By image...
Than how best to invest time.
And resources to franchise,
More 'bucks' to find.

Very few impressed with image,
Seldom have inquisitive minds.
To express interest,
Or investigate relationships...
Between the banker, lawyer,
Or the accountant.
The baker, candlestick maker.
Or the business developer,
On a cellphone...
Negotiating with the one,
Who holds the deed...
To acres of land.
Anyone's social association,
With the janitor!
The one seen cleaning.
Collecting all the trash.
To know whose trash it is.
And where it goes to keep,
One's mouth closed.
With this done to ensure,
Every window is spotless.
Squee-gee clean.

It's never a good thing...
To assume a gleaming Mercedes,
Familiar and seen...
At an office tower downtown,
And spotted in a driveway,
While taking a jog.
Does not belong to the janitor.
The jogger has snobbed.

It's never a good thing,
For the janitor to visit...
Close relatives,
To sit in welcomed chit-chats.

'Cut them some slack.
You volunteered to be janitor.
Why blame them for that? '

-When I politely stopped,
Polishing the brass...
On the revolving door.
One of them attending,
Your business meeting said...
And I quote:
'He acts as if,
He owns this place.'
With that young All THAT...
Punkish attitude.-

You had to say something.
What was it? '

-I just said...
And what if I did?
That's all.

Them he laughed.
A loud heckling kind of laugh.-

'You choose,
To wear a tuxedo.
And a top hat with spats.
On your shoes.
Daddy? What janitor does that?
And think...
He'll not be thought of,
As a joke? '

-I see your point.
I'm not yet willing to accept,
If I see him again...I'll...-

You volunteered...
To be our janitor.
And not his.'

Topic(s) of this poem: life

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 30, 2017

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