Fondue in an Alternator Factory
Fondue in an Alternator Factory
..the woman with the beautiful brown eyes and unclaspable necklace \ flirts with my alarm bleeps 10 minutes till real time after the shag stagger coffee morn vanilla 5 sugar spoons.. gulped.. the clothes lose their balance in a bagel hole hanging in dim dawn dwellingâ€™s last lynchingsâ€” the era has many errors giving 70â€™s guitar-rock riffs true/false multiple testimony of a mileâ€™s drive clambered trudge to an indentured clock. me swiped a caricature with numbers non-numbered.. rolls whisks whizzes strolls against moving racks of regulator rectifiers stator rotor diodes pulleys air wrench presses tons of aluminum miles of the piles.. on the conveyer ready for packaging reluctant redneck supervisors drawl their depts. of laborers: spitting whelpkin temps the lifers the retired part-timers.. an old senorita wears perfume in summer mingling steam, some born-again alcoholics lay down dollars with the bookies, and lager-head yanks speak eloquent stories while smokers and washed-up-n-down dieters corner the pyramid schemers .. a self-proclaimed asshole ex-minister says â€œif you only knew me..â€ which seems to whisper like a slow leak tire brought to right with a cigarette air pump every afternoon living after the whistle.. we might be in this to gether if the on-the-side musician can get paid more than the cost of gas.. a 2000â€™s mission statement might infer you belong to us and the emancipation proclamation is just another way of converting mechanical habit into electrical energy.. ..itâ€™s all honest work for poor people who believe justice as long as thereâ€™s discounts.. As they puff their hammers on sinews made from snack vendors,,,,,,,, the new lights casts molds sorts on the creation that ever catches space itâ€™s meant for.. some ends meet where thereâ€™s refurbished meat, .. i wipe my feet of tiny metal parts fallen into shoes, â€¦ but oh oh god the wo man with t he beaut i ful brow n e yes an d un clasp able neck lace tells me she loves me after 30 years,.. i wipe the dust and ask: â€œWhatâ€™s an alternator?â€
0 thoughts on “Fondue in an Alternator Factory”
You’re a genius. Do you spew, or do you rewrite? I bet you put 34 times the energy into your poems than I do mine. This is my favorite of yours so far. Love the parts about the drinkers and smokers and the pyramid schemers. I really, really like the ending too, the imagery of wiping dust. bravo!
Thanks! This one did go thru a lot of revision (after considerable spewing)…one of those you have grand ideas for and it kinda fizzles…but you leave it alone for a while and later it takes on new life. I wanted to do a Frank O’Hara ‘impure poetry’ take-off listing sequence of events with guts of life in-between…though much of poem ended up being ‘character sketch’ at this real alternator factory i worked a year and a half.
i worked in tear-down section of plant and came out every day covered in soot and sweat…managed to break down 180 alternators an hour one day which was record…mostly to just feel like a badass or something; there was some machismo involved here; or maybe just exorcising of demons; little bit of everything i suppose.
Girl with brown eyes was a worker there who i was in love with and day-dreamed about. 5 years prior we had worked together at a sandpaper plant across town. I came into work one day and she asked me to help her fasten a necklace she could not clasp…which brought me into close proximity and just stuck in my mind forever. Anyway, i ramble. thanks for comments
Let’s have lunch Astral Plane and talk, and I can hear more, and you can hear more too. I so appreciate the response you have to my writing. The more of yours I read/see the parallel thought forms in common become more outrageously apparent. Juxtaposition of unlike elements, daily surreality, perspective rarely surveyed with fascination by other beings… “They” consider the view as calamity, disaster, or fever dreaming at the least. Me, I don’t wanna wake up – neither do you! I’d love to be able to make contact on this physical plane somehow. Where can we exchange info of that nature? Tag, you’re “it” Hint: LJMichel.com