Davanger Street

Davanger Street

A Story by Tyler King
"

beginning to something i've been poking at for a while. feedback please :)

"

Continuing the 1996 final quarter reports
“Did Cunningham have any hesitance as he spoke?”
I speak to myself , sounding unsure and conservative.  
I’m always talking to myself
I could have asked:
“Should I f**k Colleen?”
That’s my supervisor
Nothing these days makes the slightest difference to my consciousness 
“Documents flew up and scattered across the board…
…organization was not his best faculty.”
I press on
“If you could have only heard those executive snarls
Even I sunk down in my seat a little.
Just a little, mind you.”
I notice the air getting a little bit thicker
It’s 3:15 on the dot
I swivel around just in time to articulate some grade A bullshit
“Hey boss, looking slick! How was the meeting? I bet you knocked the s**t out of those fuckers with our latest reports, eh?   Ah s**t I know I know.  4:30 I swear I’ll get Diana to bring them in hahaha…”
a bloody f*****g joke.
I continue with my thoughts:
“They say his wife
God bless her
she kept him together with a needle and thread
And a kind voice…
Remember little Savannah?
I heard they took his sunshine away
Living conditions were far from habitable
The inspection hit and we all remember that
Not a word from his little darling
they carried her off and her eyes screamed savage thoughts
as she watched her father fade away
in the doorway of 2209 Davanger Street.  
he spends his nights down on 16th and Lancaster
God knows what he’s doing when the rats come out
Every tie, worn in such a rigged choking fashion
has a similar stain
reeking of similar nightly misconduct
drunken doublespeak, uncoordinated guzzling
and bungling eye contact with anyone he encounters…”
“God Damnit, Where did I put that stamp?”
Every day I look out of my cubical window
I swear each time I feel a little bit higher up
and a little more isolated
At least the view helps me escape
Somewhere, anywhere. 
Ayers Rock, my face plastered against the red stone
hearing my Mother Earth breathing habitually 
My fourth wall with endless potential
I usually just count cars
or poor people. 
I have a favorite
Dr. Moon
Or he likes me to call him Doctor
the f*****g bloke
he’s absolutely mental
but I couldn’t make it to work without smiling at his charades
He’s 72, has three teeth left
and operates the brain the size of a boulder
I am intimidated by his gestures
I am intimidated by the wind.
 
  

© 2008 Tyler King


Author's Note

Tyler King
any advice is good advice

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Added on June 23, 2008
Last Updated on June 23, 2008

Author

Tyler King
Tyler King

Dallas, TX



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