Thursday, April 7, 2011

Working Day With Lack of Sleep

From the time the jets overhead start brewing coffee
to the line of Indians at 4 o'clock in front of the tea machine
everyone's a flag trapped in barbed wire
staring at a darkness that isn't there.
They tidy up their little piece of the larger chaos,
thinking themselves too small to warrant sanity
but big enough to feel responsible for everyone else's stupidity.
The best expressions of their minds, hearts and spirits
are thrown in the abyss like a bejeweled virgin to a volcano
to measure its depths, which helps in the debates
between those who know enough to be dangerous
and those who don't, the peasant arguments that never end
as they wait for the decider like children wait for Santa Clause
but deciders can only decide
what they don't want
when they see it.
How the sausage is made is irrelevant, the bosses say,
winners keep their mouths shut, their noses clean,
their powder dry, their asses covered, and they learn
when to dole out blame like penny candy,
for all of it is just a game, to those who matter,
("Who knows what we really do around here anyway?
At least in the old days we got to shag our secretaries,
now we have to make do with obscene bonuses we don't deserve"
it isn't life or death
not like it is for those who work
to have health care
so they can die sooner.

Beats daytime television any day.