whether you remove
your hand
or not
And your paychecks come
on time
even if you did not
work for them
There's too much freedom
to give comfort
to the machine
After all you must agree
to even be a pin
in the team
And yet when you walk
past the gates
you put on the chains
Despite your snide asides
and dangerous
complaints
Someone up there
must like you
Who despise yourself
for doing what you
have to do
Their hand is a benediction
until the next
profit margin squeeze
Which they'll pretend
is nothing personal
they know so little
Of your trained seal
performance
honking one too many horns
one too many
times
When the ear can barely detect
the distinction
between a lack of effort
and none at all
