A fervent plea, an impassioned SOS to <br />the remote IT - Help, my computer's <br />failed; disciples of cool calmly reply, <br />bring us the CPU. CPU? Yes, it means <br /> <br />dismantle, dissemble or disembowel <br />the beast, locate the malfunctioning <br />piece, balance precariously on a chair <br />with wheels and drag it down here <br /> <br />Security says disbelievingly, Oh no, you <br />must fill out this form in duplicate at <br />least, CPU detail, your name - and oh, <br />plus another for the chair; <br /> <br />Struggling with anxious sweat brow- <br />breaking and running unchecked down <br />my face, finally reach IT - my arrival <br />ignored - Please, I beg, sanitise my <br /> <br />virus-infected CPU - Tech Siyabonga <br />says, Ok, leave it, we'll fix it soon and <br />abruptly leaves to teach me the true <br />meaning of ‘laissez-faire' - deflated <br /> <br />return to empty desk noted by June <br />who offers use of desk-top spare, I'm <br />suddenly hub of activity - Mme La <br />Pompadour making funny remarks, a <br /> <br />baby crying somewhere, June and <br />Hanlie happily laughing creates a <br />safe atmosphere in which every <br />translation moment is blissfully <br /> <br />ensconced in a bright bubble their <br />dedicated work ethic creates, such <br />a wonderful feeling being part of <br />the show…<br /><br />Margaret Alice Second<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wonderful-feeling-revised/
