explodes her jo-jo, hey, jo, then the machine
gun fire as rapid syllables bubbles forth like a
wave breaking on the hallowed silence of the
translation beach, making a mockery of our
whispered conversations to respect the right
of others to think as they try to decipher the
opaque words of our fellow journeymen on
the road to accomplishment –
I switch on a loud march with André Rieu
shouting an irreverent hallo and informing
the Maastrichters how glad he is to be home –
and his three tenors singing the Chianti Lied
everyone individually so that the voices over-
lap and irritate the ear, my concentration is
broken and I start to calculate how long to wait
before tackling the white chocolate that will
cause double vision and
Take me nearer to the grave, as Nessun Dorma
is belted out in uneven harmony I wish for release
from the agitation caused by my colleague’s lack
of consideration - rather short-term release of pain
than spending my last days in jail for murdering this
psychopath of indiscriminate noise in the office
[23 January 2014]
[Nessun Dorma - from Turandot by Puccini]
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