MIKE’S DESK DRAWER

My friend Mike had a desk

At his job in Atlanta

Years ago, when I was still learning

The illusion of professionalism;

Mike used to slam his desk drawer.

And slam it and slam it and slam it

Out of frustration. I could hear him

Across the cubicle wall

With a timid, quiet "yes sir," and "thank you sir,"

And a polite return of the receiver to the carriage

WHAM! And then a string of muttering that wasn’t

Although it could have been

Profanity, and then a shuffling of papers

WHAM! And then WHAM! And if it didn’t quite shut

Or if it bounced back open WHAM! WHAM! WHAM!

Until the cheap laminated wood splintered

And the machine-cut dovetail joints

Stopped fitting back together; he held it

With rubber bands, binder clips,

Whatever came to hand. Eventually it bristled

With so much machinery that I couldn’t see the drawer at all.

Within were old papers on old projects, things

He had neglected and wanted not to think about.

And that was his life. He was working on his third wife,

His fifth career. Six kids from various unions,

Ranging from the toddler with the day care viruses

To the college girl at Vanderbilt; sometimes

He got so frustrated with his charming young wife

And adorable kids

that he’d slam his life shut

I could hear him across the cubicle wall

Muttering a stream of what wasn’t

Although it could have been

Profanity, and as the joints ceased to fit

And the cheap deal splintered and the veneer peeled off

He would tie his life back together

With rubber band I’m sorrys

And paper clip prayers

And a binder clip banana split

On Saturday after the little league game

whatever came to hand.

It wasn’t pretty, but it held together.

I loved Mike.

Like I said, he was my friend.

But I wanted him to leave the drawer alone.

Those times I wandered over to his desk and looked

At the mass of binders and plywood

I felt actual, physical pain in my heart, I kid you not.

It wasn’t so much I wanted him to stop slamming the drawer.

It was that I didn’t want him to have to.

Then again, I can’t say I’ve never slammed my life shut.

Can you?

James MacFarlane Williams