One Nerve Song

And now, at the end of two careers
In teaching and law for forty years

When I have one nerve left to sing
In quiet days of remembering

I bring back all the nerves used up and lost
To choices made, not counting the cost

The nerves locked in silent screams
In corporate cubicles, on computer screens

I bring them back
I bring them back

I bring back binders, thick and black
Indexed inside are every causal fact

I bring back staff greetings
In the hall, and mandatory firm meetings

For policies, procedures, and futhermores
On long white tables bolted to the floors

I bring them back
I bring them back

I bring back sounds of slamming doors
From office rooms down corridors

I bring back urgent client calls
And colleagues hurrying through the halls

And past the brown leathered conference room
I hear the tune of my one nerve song:

O, Eyes, O, fingers,
You did the work of others

Not your own
Not your own