we’re all glancing outside hoping for
a break in the clouds. production
and efficiency measure out each day
into chunks of professional development,
bounded on every side by bad coffee
and smoke break gossip among those
of us who plan to get the most out
of our medical benefits plan, braving
the cold and the carcinogens just to
make contact with other humans. just to
say we did it. something inside of me
keeps wishing for being to crash its way
noisily through the cubicles and copiers
and endless calendars of becoming, like
a spaniel tumbling through a tedious
round of chess or monopoly, nevermind
that it will be impossible to remember
just how it went or what were my next moves:
here are the eyes of insight and a great
heart. that’s what i’ve been missing. a little
slapdash. a little, sudden earnestness.


2 thoughts on “routine

  1. hahaha, i imagine a whole herd of them in your apartment, following you to class, running through your romantic dinners with timmy-tim-tim.

    i felt like this one was more cheesy journal entry than good poem, but it is what it is. sometimes i have to get the cheese out to move on. glad it spoke to you anyway!


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