to be a good worker,
but i hated
the work.
the coat and tie,
the cubicle,
the windows that
never opened,
the nine
to five.
i wanted to fit in.
i tried.
but only lunch
interested
me,
happy hour
and the coffee brewed
in the galley
kitchen or
the new secretary
at her
desk, in her
pencil dress,
with blue eyes.
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