i don't miss the office.
the work,
the grind of it.
the bosses.
the endless birthday parties
and store made
cake.
i don't miss
the copying machine, the soft
cubicles of mauve
and blue.
the shimmering fluorescent lights
above the maze of lost
souls
set out like cages
in a zoo.
i don't miss the bad coffee,
or the daily
meetings
of blowing hot air.
the chit chat, asking so what
did you do
this weekend.
i don't miss the cheap
ties i wore,
or bad shoes,
the worn suits. the dry cleaned
shirts starched
heavy in the collar.
i don't miss
any of it, except happy
hour at five.
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