Jan Oskar Hansen, PT




Free Verse


Inconsequent Calamity


Men in suits carrying cardboard boxes out of a bankrupt
finance house, it isnít money they carry out but private
belongings, picture of wife and kids and executive toys,
so what do I care? In the basement where there are no
gleaming windows and walls are cement grey, damp and
unadorned, the janitor sits, he lives from one pay check to
the next, wonít be paid this week though;

maybe he should join the navy and see the world, but at
sixty five it isnít a wise thing to do. But he has, unlike
the suits upstairs, been unemployed before, he can, if he
must, sweep the streets of New York. The TVís glare and
sympathy is not on him, the world of middle class men
worries about their own future not the janitorís or his son
who is on his third tour of duty in Iraq





Now that Iím old
No one seeks or wants my love
Except my dog



The girl at the till
Doesnít see me as a person
Iím just an old face



Graveyards are places
Where old men recall their past
And remember mum



The fear of oldness
Can only be assuaged
By senility







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