June is indefatigable, while I’m staring
in silent elation at my discolouring skin,
enjoying the transposition brought about
by the joyous experience of freezing, she
is opening e-mails, forwarding and making
lists, instructing us to make lists also, com-
piling lists from our lists and making a final
list for the managers who can’t get enough,
counting numbers and figures, computing
statistics; sending templates and running
about, exhorting all to higher procedural
prowess and greater administrative glory;
I’m sorry to say I’m not in the same high
class of ambitious bureaucracy; I’m so
delighted by this moment of ice-cold
slowing of the movement of time, my
soul suspects higher portents and
deeper meanings, avidly awaiting
the world’s end…
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