Cross-Purposes (Rev) Poem by Margaret Alice Second

Our dear Chief Director, ambling through the office
suddenly accosted me, gnawing my way through a
packet of chocolate oatmeal cookies in preparation
for the day when illness or age will prevent me from
indulging - I nearly fell off my chair when he asked
what I was doing; swallowing hastily -

I replied: Researching the bovine embryo for export
while reflecting on titbits of Arabic such as the letter
K looking like a J with a small, lopsided s on the leg
of the letter; nonplussed he looked around & asked
whether my colleague Thokozile was engaging the
same task - No, something else entirely - and at

This point I knew we were talking at cross-purposes
again; somehow I cannot keep a talk with our kind
Director on track, we always derail completely as I
leave for Siberia and he ends up in Germany, even
Bulgaria; then he amiably ambles away while I stare
at my screen, amazed a small conversation such as

This can end up in a tangle; ah well, tomorrow I'll try
to make more sense of what he says….