MS (9th December Nineteen Fifty / Tiglin, Wicklow, Ireland)

The Walking Man

He used to be a Someone in the Firm
Used to snappy suits and natty ties
The white haired keen Exec.
Was tipped for progress,
The apple of the new Director’s eye

A whispered indiscretion with expenses,
Hungover on the Presentation Day,
A hint of out-of–favour in the gossip,
Passed out by someone else’s greedy progress.
The new Director won’t return his calls.
He’s on his way.

Freelance Consultant, everybody’s at it,
It’s quite the coming thing he hears them say
The Network’s in good shape so what’s the problem
He’s cutting deals and setting up appointments
He’s joined the Walking Men this very day.

The Walking Man is always on to something
With mobile phone and empty time to hand
His next deal’s always just around the corner
He’ll walk and phone and walk to make it land
Building hopes of future on an ever shifting sand.

The Walking Man sees former colleagues walking
Many other pin-stripes walking free
They cross the road avoiding bullshit meetings –
Telling each other lies that things are grand.
The last thing Walking Man wants
Is to meet himself and not like what he sees

Martin Swords Nov.2006

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