The
The kitchen radiator was knocking and pounding and shouting
and swearing; but when I asked the plumber if the valve could be fixed, he sadly answered, “I don’t see how.”
His disgusted look said, “Don’t you know this CAN’T be
FIXED?–I’ll go now.”
And postoffice people look positively exasperated because I don’t know the amt. of postage necessary to send a pkg. weighing 4 lbs., 3 oz. to Nome, Alaska;
If there were any other way of finding out, dear, old p. o. clerk, would I aska?
Would I, if I could plumb, call a plumber?
And hafta clean up his mess, and repair the woodwork, and pay his price, besides wait on the job all summer?
If I were as smart as those people think I should be, and
see my way through the mist,
How could they exist?
I wouldn’t need to call a plumber or have a sad-eyed clerk weigh my’parcel;
A few deft twists with-a wrench for the one; and, for the other, save that walk to the p.o, and my instep and
metatarsal.
We all the other guy, because he is dumber than we are,
upbraid–
Then, in the next breath, expect him to know EVERYTHING
about every line and trade…
And I guess the fellow who first said “It’s a funny world”, must have been doing of it some studying–
And if I had been examining, or knew anything at all about poetry, would I be doing this kind of fuddy-duddying?
by Ray Romine Sunday, April 18, 1943
