Tug Dumbly - One of These Things is Not Like the Other

Grim grey gent in a suit

sighs in the lobby

for the lift that won’t come,

rocks in sufferance on shiny shoes.

The Irish tradie with the boogie board

gabs into his phone.

The strong-scented woman

with mortuary makeup

fingers a gold-chained handbag.

And me, in trackies and hoodie,

my uniform to help the infirm.

The voice of the Filipino lift lady

enunciates the floors, slowly.

The tradie blathers on. The scent

of the woman swamps the cubicle. 

The stink of the fag

I just sucked the guts from

is on my mind.  

The grey gent sighs, briefcase

in one hand, wedged tight

under his opposite armpit

a biography of Cyndi Lauper.

I get out of the lift, but can’t get

out of my head for the rest of my shift

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun.