watching a love affair develop between a monkey and a pig is as wierd as watching a spider crawl across a soap bar

at work i spend time off-loading out-of-date files that can't be kept longer than 7 years in light of Data Protection Act strange to be putting evidence of lives away into plastic bags; watching histories depart ready for the shredder - could almost hear them calling out 'no' echoing all the way donw to the hard bumpat the bottom of the bag

in that dusty backroom I feel like Bukowski's factotum carrying some burden of work and displacement and wonder (I mean a kind of existential wonder- questions and shake-of-the-head realisations) - maybe I'm in my post cage and need to put pictures up to brighten my imagination