30 Poems in 30 Days
Day 22 - leaving something behind
I play Sahara Lounge music
all the way home, forty minutes
of shoulders and hips dancing
driving at a hundred and ten
crosswinds hustling and shoving
vehicles veering towards verges
or rocking on bridges across
valleys, refusing to give in, be
victimised by bad northerly winds.
Back in my home office, I discover
I've left vital information, confidential,
and the only pen in the world
that works for my arthritic hands
in the other office. "I'll scan and email
every page!" he says. "Don't look!"
I plead. He solemnly promises.
I drive back towards the city to
the nearest stationer's, buy two pens.
The wind is still vicious and
there are more cars on the road.
It's five o'clock peak hour
for commuters. I grip the wheel
and do not play dancing music.