The Morning Commute

A poem for disimpassioned cubicle workers:

Copy, file, e-mail, check.

Triple check.

Procedure seizure ensues.

Never thought you’d spend your days in a windowless cube?

What to do?

Go back to college, buy an acronym?

But you see half zip up, Sperry wearing trip ups, carrying a debt like a boulder with that chip on their shoulder.

So, you write.

Creating art fuels you when the computer drools you.

Don’t want to live for Friday to Sunday

Today, you celebrate Monday!