Friday, October 12, 2007

Do you have the time, sir?


24 hours.
2 men.
12 hours each.
One's a dour old man.
He has only one expression: No expression.
He must have thoughts
I think.
There's nothing in his eyes that I can see or recognize.
He must be alive. I've seen him eat.
He's there in the mornings, and he's there early evenings.
Is he there for 12 hours straight?
Doing absolutely nothing.
Maybe not even thinking?
Waiting for what?
Is it 10 past 9 in the morning?
who can tell?
It could be 10 past 9 in the evening.
It doesn't matter.
It's just time.
Is time money?
How much for 12 hours?

If you want to know what the night guy is like,
I can report that he's rather happy looking.
Old. Content.
He's got an eternal smile on his face.
Not quite like Mona Lisa's.
And he doesn't have the hair.
A few strands slicked over his liver spotted scalp.

I've caught him laying flat on a piece of cardboard spread on the floor of the lobby.
No wonder he's happy. He gets to sleep on his job.
no wonder the day guy seems so sullen.
He's has the right to be.
It's much harder to sit up and sleep.
Doesn't give you the same rest.

When I take a job like a doorman I will insist on the night shift.
I will insist on a building with only old people living in it.
No night ramblers. Thank you very much.
There's nothing as annoying as people disturbing you during work.
And it has to be a rather small building.
It would definitely be a plus if the floor had soft carpeting.

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