:: wutznu :: poetry :: photos ::

Mrs. G.

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It's like oil and water
When the scattered give answers to the focused,
The high-fliers directions to the fine-tuned

She rattled off ten, maybe fifteen words
As if her life depended on brevity

He stood and stared, glassy eyed,
Her response only grazed the surface

He was looking for comprehension,
A full history,
He had already visited the weeds
And knew how many there were
And how many had not yet been categorised

She was looking to get rid of him
With as few words as possible,
She does all the talking,
Says, "Thanks..."
And then turns to go,
Don't allow questions,
There's no need for clarity,
Just get it done

For him it needs to be done right,
Once for all,
Start with a complete picture,
Then build on that strong foundation

For her, done is good enough,
If there's a problem we'll fix it later,
Push the paper,
Keep it moving,
It's about how many we've done
Not the quality of what we've done

Oil and water,
Warm air rising above cold,
Opposing polar magnets
Pushing to get around each other

So how does anything get done?

He bends,
He studies,
He learns,
Without her institutional knowledge
As always, he finds a way

© 2008 (15 july) john r. chase

...the names have been changed to protect the ignorant...