Late to Work


I am the devil, asleep til 8:12.
I arrive late, fluorescence smothering
Here where the dry air never moves, I curse
Beauty. I stand at the water fountain
Measuring my sold life: antiseptic
Water, that fluid we are made of, my
Thoughts an angry chaos, bitter coffee.
Here where the walls are made of beige burlap,
Sound-proof, light-proof, air-proof, thought-proof, me-proof
Riot-proof, tornado-proof, beauty-proof
Architecture, holy mausoleum.

I want to bang this job against the wall
Until it opens its eyes, sees itself.
I am not a slacker, but what difference?
Inert, drowning in salary, numb, dead.

Table of Forms

Table of Forms
© 1996-2006
Dominique Fitzpatrick-O'Dinn
Spineless Books