The office is cold today.
Your fingers walk like numb Cornettos on
the keyboard keys, deleting spam
Viagra emails from Nigerian diplomats
and looking at the clock to see
if it's time yet for your cup of tea
and wondering who brought those biscuits in
and what a nice old tin they're in
and do you sit near her enough to ask her please?
It's half past nine and you're already bored.
Maybe the heating's broken
so you could go home?
But no, the radiator rattles at you
like a cancer patient battling on
"I'm still alive, you mother fuckers!"
but at least in hospitals the bloody heating works,
at least you get to see the nurse's smiling face,
in hospitals it's not as cold as outer space
and you can tell the living
from the dead.
Not like this place.
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I should point out this is a poem written in character and is not about my specific experience at my current place of work (as such!). We don't even have radiators here, for example. You got nothing on me, boss, you can't prove anything :-P
ReplyDeleteSeriously, though, it is cold here...