Wednesday, February 27, 2013

POEM - Death of the Import Clerk


I've toyed around with the notion of a heart attack
A simple seizure of the life muscle
To guarantee those three or four vacation days next week
A little bed rest and some vindication
Keep work guessing about my stability and reliability
Force the imposing of a backup plan
Just in case you-know-who has another episode

Maybe they’d care then
Maybe they’d be sorry

Maybe this is a juvenile short sighted rant
Like my job and the corporate policy
Enforced by barely literate troglodytes
Who will be forced to scrub the stench of my spent carcass
From the ergonomic HermanMiller where I expire

Then of course I have never done this before
Maybe I’ll take it too far
I’ll be a vegetable or a corpse
I am prone to excess and flair
And drama and overdoing it and not thinking ahead
and pushing the buttons, and, well

Things could get out of control real quick
After all it’s just another lost Saturday
Another chance to prove I’m the only one
Who takes care of business
Rights what’s wrong
Is striving for success
Writing another poem about the great state of suck
and the supporting structure thereof

I’m an enabler and for that I apologize
Every hour of overtime
Every additional weekend day

I apologize to that kid back there and back then
The one who wouldn't grow up
Who still can’t tuck in his shirt
Prefers Dr. Seuss to Dr. Phil (by about a million bazillion times)

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