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Cubicle Angst

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My dream is far off


Barn doors rusted shut
Front yard overgrown



Farmhouse deserted
I now sit idly at a desk
Typing away on an Mac
30 minute lunch break, 2 cups of coffee to make it through the day
A stack of papers to be edited on my right
A dusty photograph of my dream on my left facing downward
Every 10 minutes I’ll glance at the clock on the wall
And every 15 minute I’ll take a bathroom break
And in those 5 precious minutes of solitude in the bathroom
I cry and ask the universe, “Why?”
Then when it’s over and done, I wash my hands,
Pat my face dry, straighten my pencil skirt, fix my hair and mascara
And I’ll stare at myself in the mirror
Then I’ll plaster on another smile and go back to my chair
At my desk, in my cubicle
I might make small talk with the cubicle next to me
And once 10 more minutes have ticked slowly on by
I’ll glance at the clock again



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