DUANE ANDERSON

 

Occupying Force

 

Throughout the day, college students kept

turning down the aisle where I sat,

quickly turning around with looks of disgust

 

as they found out their little hideaway,

their secluded spot located far enough away from

all the others who roamed the hallways and common areas

 

had been invaded by a blood drive,

an occupying force that had breached their terrain.

They would have to find another location to study,

 

eat their lunch, or just relax for a few minutes

between their classes throughout the remainder of the day.

It was only for one day, but it had interrupted their routine,

 

causing me to get looks of what in the hell

are you doing here as I sat there behind the table.

I was the guardian of the hallway,

 

blocking the way to their refuge

unless they wished to donate a unit of their blood,

then the gateway would open up with welcoming arms.

 

The Wall Of Unhappiness

 

The words, “The Wall of Happiness”, were painted

on one of the walls going into the common area,

and covered with little pieces of paper shaped with

the company logo of fluffy white clouds

 

displaying comments from various customers happy

with the service they received from the company.

Then on the other side of the room, there wasn’t

any wall of happiness.  A wall existed, but it was

 

quickly turning into the wall of unhappiness

where the blood drive was taking place.

The donors were showing up, but the computers

were down due to various equipment and Wi-Fi issues,

 

causing donations to be delayed, waiting for

the rescue squad to come with new equipment,

hoping to save the day from further unhappiness, and the

wall filling up with any additional dark storm clouds.

 

Board Room

 

The sign posted in front of the board room

read “Quiet Please! Meeting in Progress,

turn off all cell phones prior to entering,

 

and if you must talk, take your conversation

to another area of the building”.

If they regularly held meetings in this room,

 

was no one allowed to talk?

Did everyone speak using sign language,

or did everyone just stare at one another

 

and read each other’s thoughts?

For one day, the board room had been converted

from being used for conferences and meetings

 

to that of a blood drive where music played

in the background, talking was allowed

as questions were being asked

 

and questions were being answered.

Blood flowed, but not because of any

disputes or battles being fought.

 

Everything flowed in an orderly fashion,

a board room taken over by a different

kind of communication.

 

Welcoming

 

At some companies, I was called a visitor,

while at others, I was called a guest,

which had more of a welcoming feeling as I

checked in at the guard’s or receptionist’s desk,

 

then again, it seemed more friendly

checking in at a receptionist’s desk

rather than a security desk where the

guard sometimes carried a gun.

 

At today’s site, there was even a welcoming

board listing several names on it,

but my name was nowhere to be found.

None had welcoming mats,

 

but I was also thankful they didn’t require me

to take off my shoes so not to dirty their carpet,

but that was to their advantage,

not having to deal with the stink

 

of other’s sweaty feet.

Each company had their own standard

of welcoming others into their facilities,

but any was better than when someone called

 

in the welcoming wagon if I looked like

a suspicious character and ended up

being hauled to the police station, but then at least,

I would know I wasn’t welcomed.

 

DUANE ANDERSON

 

DUANE ANDERSON currently lives in La Vista, NE.  He has had poems published in Fine Lines, Cholla Needles, Tipton Poetry Journal, and several other publications. He is the author of  ‘On the Corner of Walk and Don’t Walk,’  ‘The Blood Drives: One Pint Down,’ and ‘Conquer the Mountains.’