Slouching Towards Alaska

Tonight is Forrest’s last night on the project. We have done the Intern/Outtake, and run the evaluations, and tonight there is a party going on.

I was told there was to be a talent show. I thought I would read some poetry as my act, and I turned to my trusty Norton Anthology to find something suitable to read at Forrest’s departure.

I couldn’t nail anything, which turned out to be OK since there wasn’t actually a talent show planned anyway.

Instead there was a terrific bonfire, some hotdogs, and many marshmallows for the boys.

There was a huge turnout. Forrest should run for office.

Tami had assembled a CD of music, and another of photographs she had collected over his time at Piedmont Biofuels.

I read part of William Butler Yeats Second Coming, and cut it short before Forrest and company had to deal with all the mythic/religious stuff in the second stanza.

And I read a poem that I wrote for the occasion. I borrowed a flashlight from Tom, skipped my reading glasses and gave it a go.

For those not on the project, Forrest is leaving us to go fishing in Alaska. He is our “second generation” of intern. The first was Chris Jude, who sort of kicked us into internships in the first place.

A fraction of the party gathered around to hear me read. This was my poem for Forrest:

Anarchist in Moncure
With apologies to William Butler Yeats.

He was the damndest thing I ever saw.
Looked just like you and me.

But he didn’t believe in markets.
And he was stubborn about that.

He thought we should screw the “man.”
I’d never heard of the man.
I don’t believe in the man.
What’s with the man?

And now he’s leaving town.
Off to convince someone else.
Before I even have a chance to google the man.

He’s slouching towards Alaska.
Where he can eat what he kills
And where the salmon will fear him.

Leaving me here to scratch my head
And take the debate to myself.
It strikes me that now would be a rotten time
To be a fish.

Posted by Lyle at May 11, 2005 03:23 AM