Auckland Poetry

It scribbles and dribbles the day throughout
Sheets of paper encrypted with notes and symbols
Someone’s message no doubt
It’s the fax machine’s last century clout.
Ring Ring there it goes again
It’s for Jenny in accounts
It’s the man who sells trout.
Jim’s on-line working all day
He answers the phone sounding happy and gay
Jim’s in sales, sales make his day.
The more calls he takes the more he makes
Jim works hard for this pay
Many phone calls make his day.
When he gets a fax call he no longer sounds gay
You can hear him screeching across the bay.
Ring Ring there it goes again
“That bloody fax machine,” Jim is turning gray.
I ask Jenny why she faxes him all day,
He can’t answer his sales that way.
“Jenny how many times do you do that each day?”
She said it depends if Jim has been naughty or nice.
Some days she rolls the dice that’s the number of times
She will spike his device.
Funny to watch Jenny’s little game
Faxing Jim every day.

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