Tuesday, October 20, 2015

Neil Fulwood- A Poem

Water Cooler
Historically they meant something,
these givers of life, these wellings-up.
The source of the Nile, the fountain
of youth, the murky patch of damp
clawed from the desert by Cable Hogue.
Now it’s a water cooler, plumbed
into a corridor or corner of the office,
fluoridated dispenser calling to worship
lead-swingers, gossipers, early-swervers,
purveyors of office politics: it’s the source
of cheap talk, the fountain of untruth.

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