on the other side

tired of nine to five
in your cubicle
you plan your escape
over the wall
under the gate
you dig and dig
for months,
then you go in
the dead of night
when the watchtower
light swings right
then left. you crawl
to the fence and snip
the wires,
then run and run
with the hounds
at your heels, barking.
they are on you
so quickly. the bullets
fly near your ears,
but you keep going.
your boss
yells at you, what
about the christmas
party, your bonus,
but you are no longer
a part of his world.
you strip down to
bare skin, throwing
the shoes away.
the coat and tie,
the briefcase. you only
keep one thing,
a red stapler, shiny
and bright, that reminded
you for so many years
that there was life
and imagination
on the other side.