Wednesday, October 18, 2006

In which the artist bangs her head on her desk, stops to yawn, and resumes.

















When I dragged myself
to my cubicle this morning
It was like I had never left. I can’t escape
To a coffee shop
Or—novel idea—the gym
Because I have to leave on time again
to go to class and I
I’m going nuts
It is 2:30. The day is young.

My rhododendron weeps for me.
The printer whines.
If my cube had iron bars
I’d drag a tin can along them.
If my cube had iron bars
I’d hold them in my fists
Shake and do something obscene,
like a monkey at the zoo who belongs
in a tree, in a forest, in a country, far, far
away from here.

6 comments:

Voix said...

I love this piece. The part about the tin can, especially.

David said...

So, how's the day going so far, Cavu?

M said...

Today is better. I took a lunch break and went shopping for an hour and a half.

Voix said...

Whadja get?

Claire said...

That's the insidious part, eh, no actual bars.

Anonymous said...

be careful what you say about monkeys. we's don't like to be cooped up. be that cages or wrapped inside plastic bags and stuffed into some mofo traveler's bag as he galavants the globe.

- spanky