What You Start 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
     
    
      
        
          
            Finish what you start. 
            The ending is apart. 
            Fill your life with heart, 
            And finish what you  
         
       
     
 | 
  
  
    
     
     Just
    the FAX 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      
        
          
            Where is that FAX? 
            Where did it go? 
            It must be close 
            I am not lax 
            But where's my FAX?  
         
       
     
 | 
  
  
    
    Friends 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      
        
          
            Johnney--Two-- Thumbs 
            Met Eight--Fingered--Sam, 
            And shook two hands. 
            Together they each had ten. 
            Johnney and Sam became friends. 
            What you lack I know 
            Someone else will hold. 
            Strong together, weak alone. 
           
         
       
     
       | 
  
  
    
    Climbing Time 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All Rights Reserved.
     
    
      
        Finished school, and here I am. 
        At the bottom, looking up. 
        Trembling hope for rapid climb. 
        Rungs of rules, on Ladder of Success. 
        Hand-over-hand; Pull-Step, Pull-Step. 
        Fingers clamping, straining 
        Bruising other's knuckles 
        Standing on their shoulders 
        Gripping other's bootstraps 
        Crying mentor's tears. 
        Dizzy heights, t h i n r a r e a i r 
        at the Top: Totally Alone 
        I looked across the void to see 
        An elevator full of leaders, just like me. 
        Raising their glasses they made a toast 
        to Teamwork, Friendship, and Loyalty.  
     
 | 
  
  
    
    Vacation 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All Rights Reserved.
     
    
       
      Pack the bags, pack the snacks, pack the
      maps 
      Hurry, pack. Hurry, faster...don't forget! 
      E v e r y t h i n g, except the sink and the pets. 
      The car is crammed--should have bought that
      minivan. 
      Temper's pressure cooker hot--blood pressure tan. 
      Leaving for weekend peace--frantic for future fun, 
      Fleeing city's pace--seeking someplace else--slower run. 
      Racing heart, quarter-mileing--hoping the
      parachute will open. 
      Check the fluids, hoses, wires, filters, heater, wipers, tires. 
      When we get there--we'll be fine. 
      If we get there. 
      Sigh, I need a vacation.  
 | 
  
  
    
    Free Time 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      
        My broker can close the deal. 
        His phone will have to do 
        So we can visit relatives 
        So we can see our children play 
        So we can have a quiet night 
        So I can kiss and hold you tight 
        Without my phone to change our plans 
        Without my phone and it's demands 
        Without my phone and broker 
        Without my phone. 
        Rinnngg... Oh, let me just get that. 
        Rinnngg... Honey, it will only take a minute. 
        How do you think I pay for these vacations? 
        Rinnngg... 
        Honey? 
        Beep! 
        Sam: I can make that meeting after all.  
     
 | 
  
  
    
    Computer Lament 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
     
    
      
        She wanted to change me 
        To make me OK 
        To fit her lifestyle 
        With plenty of fit. 
        She deleted my manly front end 
        And changed me to windows, only one at a time. 
        I was designed as a multi-user, 
        But she made me single, and dedicated. 
        She got some E-Mail from one of my friends, 
        So I lost my modem to make amends. 
        She gave me pink wallpaper and silly toons 
        And only used Write without spelckekker. 
        Reduced my RAM. She only liked sheep. 
        She 'plugged and played' me, 
        But seldom turned me on. 
        So, I'll just close my cursors, and pass off to sleep.  
     
 | 
  
  
    
    Gun 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      
        
          It was pressed against my temple. 
          My prayers had to pass by its muzzle. 
          He said he would kill me. 
          The powder from the last shot 
          Smelled like death. 
          Pushing so hard my pulse pounded, 
          My skull might explode ahead. 
          And all I could think of was: 
          'Did I have on clean underwear?'  
       
     
 | 
  
  
    
    Deep Garden 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    I dug the garden deep 
    Deeper than the experts said to dig 
    Deeper than my muscles and my back wanted me to 
    Deeper than the furthest roots could penetrate down deep 
    Deep enough 
    Deeper still 
    Way deep 
    Too deep 
    Beyond deep 
    Below deep 
    Deeper 
    I turned and mixed the soil 
    Turned it and mixed it more than the experts said 
    More than my muscles and my back wanted me to turn and mix 
    More fluffed earth than the roots of my crops required to grow 
    More than enough 
    More still 
    Way more 
    Beyond more 
    More 
    I planted my crops 
    Planted them all over the place, without rows, in clumps 
    The experts all walked away muttering to themselves 
    Later, I watched alone as my crops grew like
    trees in a forest 
    Taller, and more than enough  |  
  
  
    
    Another Day 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      I sit with this screen staring back at me
      and I stare 
      Wondering when or where my next idea will appear 
      Hammering out words for this verse of verbiage venting 
      Onto this page unrelenting, pushing, shoving, planting 
      Onto this screen of blankness staring back at you 
      Hoping for something to catch a page and hold it 
      Inking into our future to glimpse another past 
      I sit, and we stare, blinking back, typing at last  
 | 
  
  
    
    Payday 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      I work hard for my money 
      Most of the time my mind was on my job 
      I couldn't be expected to know everything 
      No one gets to work on time every day 
      My co-workers are aloof and snobs 
      They blame me when they fail 
      When they screw-up, I'm the one that pays 
      But, I work for my money 
      I show up most every day 
      Only a little hung-over Monday 
      And wishing Friday was today 
      But, I show up anyway 
      But the trouble is all worthwhile 
      Every payday I wear a smile 
      My envelope is bigger, and fatter today 
      They've given me a bonus, hooray! 
      Inside I gaze at Paycheck and note 
      All that it says is: 
      As a reward for sometime, maybe, almost, and the like 
      We're giving you notice, pack your bags, take a hike.  
 | 
  
  
    
    Telepathy 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      
        You thought I knew, I thought you knew 
        We both assumed and paid the price 
        Proudly knowing that we were right 
        You made your plans, I made my plans 
        We both committed and changed our lives 
        'Come follow me', we both did cry 
        You went your way, I went my way 
        We split apart, we both had left 
        Was our love false, or only deaf? 
        You miss me now, I miss you now 
        We both regret, but we both stay 
        Awaiting the 'sorry', we both won't say  
     
 | 
  
  
    
    The Call 
    Copyright (c) 1998 Andrew Mealey, All
    Rights Reserved.
      
    
      I sit. 
      I sit and stare. 
      I sit and stare at the phone. 
      I sit and stare, but the phone doesn't see. 
      The phone is just before my eyes. 
      My eyes stare. 
      My eyes stare at the phone, but the phone doesn't stare back. 
      The phone is near to my ears. 
      My ear listens. 
      My ear listens, but the phone doesn't speak. 
      The phone is close to my mouth. 
      My mouth speaks. 
      My mouth speaks, but the phone doesn't listen. 
      The phone is within the reach of my hand. 
      My hand doesn't reach. 
      The phone sits, without eyes and ears and voice. 
      Phone. 
      This phone. 
      This phone is just like your phone. 
      Waiting, sitting, immobile, unused. 
      If I called would you answer? 
      If you called would I answer? 
      Sitting and staring, we wonder.  
 |