Michael Diebert
Directions to My Apartment
Two down, thirty left,
Rubik’s-cube-twist your torso
until it’s all yellow, backflip-
slither up the stairwell,
smash the ant, poke your nose out
the open window, be one
with the pre-rain chlorine air,
summer, long grass, your father
calling you, jog in place,
retrace down to ground
level, into the marble lobby,
hotel or mausoleum, follow
the kids single file no talking
to the lunchroom, two minutes,
hup hup, scarf that pizza square,
toss back that chocolate milk,
ask the track coach on duty
leaning against the wall, arms crossed,
where’s the nearest place to puke,
receive a blank stare, roll-step
backwards toward the lockers,
a little more, a little more, okay
stop, look out, glittering
arrow dropping from the ceiling
pointing that way, go that way,
be the trail which snakes
down the tree-lined hillside
until the covered bridge, take it
over the river, pass through
thorn thickets galore, almost,
you’ve surmounted so much,
viruses, malevolence,
climb the rope ladder, climb
the rocky jut, climb the steep
switchback up the rival hillside,
look for the jeep, jump in,
clatter over granite and sandstone,
the minute you’ve driven too far
is when you’ve arrived, magnetic
north, corn dog truck, jewelry
hut, dive bar, my apartment.
Helpdesk
yes that download takes an hour
that bulletin board has disappeared
that news feed is yesterday’s yes
we are aware we are not
empowered we have no time frame
why your screen is telling you that
we can only guess we are not paid
to guess we are aware supervisors
come and go in this company is it
the lack of pictures? the funk
of something dying? that is a guess
yes we cannot guess do not ask
soon as systems are back you might
wish to find the answer yourself
we have heard yes our competitors
have left us in the dust we are sorry
we will be happy to try to walk
you through that reinstall help you
send a message to the grandkids
this is your experience we are told
the trends are pointing upward
like mountains little dips here
and there yes but broadly speaking
climbing toward a peak we do not
know what our prospects are
we get three minutes per call thirty
minutes to eat we take turns manning
the line whoever feels guru no one
has ever hung up from us and not
come away changed in any case
days peel yes from the desk calendar
maples which we have seen
while eating go on achieving
turn off your machine turn it back on
see if the problem repeats itself
a replacement is on its way yes
we are aware someone somewhere
is working nonstop to fix it
Michael Diebert teaches writing and literature at Perimeter College, Georgia State University, and co-hosts a monthly poetry reading series. He is the author most recently of Thrash (Brick Road, 2022). Recent work has appeared in San Pedro River Review and Apple Valley Review and is forthcoming in Sheila-Na-Gig and Rattle. A two-time cancer survivor, Michael lives in Avondale Estates, Georgia with his wife and two dogs.
