AFTER ALL

AFTER ALL

In 1929 the world took blows all day and night and investors stayed up all of the time. Babies still came into this falling world not knowing what to expect. Some Caesarian sections persevered in hospitals and many belabored in bedrooms at home. The houses stood on firm foundations even whilst the master of the house did not trust his office secretary. The steel filing cabinets in his office lay near the busy corridor and a brass metal key stayed in the lock unused for days. Children born in these depression hours cried harder and louder. The mother slept on a steel divan and read herself to sleep. TV peeped from electronic magazines to tell us what fun we could expect in the future. The father lived at the office in a striped trouser suit not to be confused with pajamas lying in a Macy’s bag as yet unpaid for. Credit cards did not know what plastic was and dollar notes were kept flat in leather magnified money clips. No pretty girls from the Ziegfeld Follies showed up during the helter-skelter; they’d show their bare legs and breasts through transparent blouses and that would be in ’43. The gold standard saved many a man’s pocket book in that they walked in an invincible fashion. White and black shoes and large upturned cuffs that needed dusting on the near shiny trousers were in full show. Telephones lost novelty and the continual turning of the handle to make a call soon went out of fashion. The operators lost their jobs. Harlots stood on street corners witnessing depositors sawing at the banks steel gates. They bent down low with bended knees and laddered stockings to collect iron filings which they took home to place under soft pillows and soft bodies for luck. Sugar daddies did not keep appointments and the pretties took whatever came hobbling down The Street. Men dressed in fur coats vomited onto the plate glass windows of closed stores. The reflections showed yesterday’s good days. Daisies and other unwatered flowers withered as the commotions grew larger. The screaming and shouting of bank customers dinned out the ticker tape doing its best to suppress anxiety and hid the new blood stains on the reams of tape it constantly spat out. Men’s greasy finger fondled the figures and some in disbelief left the floor and descended thirty floors down sans elevator. The baby at home heard the words Depression and cried all night and day for his daddy. The brokers made a courtesy call but the mother in her kitchen studied how to stuff a turkey. Holding a wooden spoon she said she knew nothing. Didn’t your husband come home last night? they asked. Since the baby arrived a few weeks ago I have not noticed much. The sidewalks bore the sad
impressions of feet and shoes that lost fortunes. Street names nearby changed automatically and untouched vendors slept well in the usual places under Grand Central Station. Savings boxes in the banks bore signs of vandalism and old/new overcoats lay on the front door chains unclaimed. Young revelers danced in the early hours of the morning past the portal towers of old immense wealth. They were excited and shouted and blew their Model T horns. This generation arrived in splendor. They seemed surprised that the old folks stayed up so late. The girls screamed and showed a naked leg from the dickie-seat. Some wore no brassieres or girdles. The boys emptied whisky from a Kentucky bottle into the gutters and waving to the prone figures lying dead still on the sidewalk blurted out, Have a drink on us!

Story ID:	4515
Written by:	Martin Steele (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:	Poem
Location:	DELRAY BEACH USA
Year:	2008