when I worked in an office
a thousand years ago,
I could see that almost everyone
was basically
unhappy with their lives.
side by side,
shoulder against shoulder
heaping
paper onto papers.
it might as well been coal.
I knew I wouldn't be there long.
I wasn't cut
from the same cloth as they were.
my wings were clipped, a caged
bird that wasn't singing,
sorry angelou,
but I stuck it out, did
what I could
to get the job done, earn
my keep.
but it was more about the coffee
break. happy hour.
the picnic, the parties,
the new secretary
that I couldn't wait to meet.
the work meant nothing to me.
a grind
and I could see it in those
around me,
but they had no way out,
no way over the fence, with
children
and families.
mortgages, bills,
life had anchored them down.
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