I lean back in my desk chair and look up at the ceiling.
Acoustical tile. Good. Just as it should be.
I turn to my terminal and check my electronic messages.
I answer some and delete the rest.
My, how productive I am. How productive we all are.
Another minute goes by. That much closer to my death.
I go to the men's room and evacuate my bladder and bowels,
To remind myself that I am an animal, despite my necktie.
I pat my badge to reassure myself that I belong.
I check my fly to reassure myself that I will not be ostracized.
I open the door, ready to look Corporate America in the eye,
Ready to go get whatever we go-getters go get.
Perhaps I shall find it in my lower right desk drawer.
Perhaps I shall find it in the stockroom.
Perhaps I shall never find it.
Good news. Good luck. Goodbye.
Larry Lang