Anonymous
and Distant
Anonymity inspires me to
astounding deeds.
Cocooned in a cubicle I
metamorphose,
My wings my power over those
I do not see or know
Though each could be my neighbor
Or the husband of a friend of cousins in New York.
Anonymous, I freeze their
credit, deny their loan,
Instruct them to check the plug,
To de-install their software or reboot.
I tinker with their lives,
More worried what my boss will say
That might affect my job that feeds my family
Than what befalls the disembodied voices
Who fill my work days.
I know them not nor care for them a jot.
Anonymous, seeking help, I
fill with rage
While selecting from menus on command
Until at last a human voice greets me
And I respond in growls, insults, and curses
Of that kindred anonymous soul
Whose job put them into the track
My eighteen-wheeled frustration races.
Removed and separated but
for fiber threads
From persons who serve me or whom I serve,
The milk of human kindness
Dwindles to a spoon of nonfat yogurt
Gobbled in the hours I am home
Among my friends and family.
Far from my fellows in the human race
By the distance that allows me
To retain my spirit while those voices
Swear into my ear
And click our conversations to an end,
I cannot help but think of them
As nothing, nothing, nothing.
Efficiently, anonymously, I do my job
With no regard for voices that I hear.
If they have lives like mine
Perhaps they share my dreams
But if this is the stuff
dreams are made of
They are nightmares;
I can hear the screams.
--Joe Chambers
29 September 2006
