victory

you know people
who count
the years until work
ends.
when they can
collect what's due
to them, when
they can finally
spend
what pennies they
have saved.
go fishing.
buy a boat, sail
off into some
mythical sunset, done
with the traffic,
the boss,
the tethered lines
of phones
and computers
telling them what
to do, where to
be. no more they say
hands held
high in
victory, limping
off towards
the oars and pole
to catch
a sunfish in the green
deep sea.