Boxes
When houses
appreciated and mortgages
flowed like champagne,
the inbox on my desk
was constantly full.
Now, I have no inbox.
I have no desk.
I have no office.
I sit in a box
called a cubicle.
I sit in one box
on Fridays and Mondays,
and a second box
on Saturdays and Sundays.
I don’t know those
who sit in the boxes
on the days I don’t.
They don’t have inboxes, either.
Prompted by We Write Poems Thursday Prompt #1: Boxes
Sad commentary on the American way of life in 2010! Well done, Dan!
You might want to write some poetry on your cubicle walls. See what happens. I wrote a box poem, but I think its “chick” lit.
mm waiting for a new adventure beyond the boxes
and it keeps getting worse for employees in RE.
nice poem