Office
The sweat is running
Down my arms
It is almost noon
And I have done nothing
But sit at this desk
I sit at everyday
And drink coffee
Wondering where the girl is
Who sits beside the vending machine
Perhaps she is sick
But I think maybe all
The beautiful people are
Elsewhere on a day like this.
Outside the trees are burning
And the sun is pushing
Shadows from the Doric pillars
That are lined in their
Neat manner that suggests a
Midwestern American town
Or Greek Agora
But there is no life here
It is mid July
And we’re all adrift.
I get up and wander through the building
I walk along the gantries
And through the long rooms
Where men of varying ages
Sit reined in by desks
Staring at monitors
Deprived pale looks on their faces.
I begin to imagine
We are aboard a ship
A vast galleon far at sea
And all these men looking
At spreadsheets
Are instead pouring over maps
Plotting our navigation
While others are
Are decoding fragments
Of ancient manuscripts,
Deciphering hieroglyphs
And piecing together clues,
Each man unified
By a collective journey
Exercising their wits
And breaking new ground
Utterly employed, in this
The dawn of a heroic new age.
Tom Harding
Mon 29th Aug 2011 15:42
thanks all!