Poetry from the Office

This rayon blend lady-monkey suit,
I think it’s giving me the hives.
Florescent light’s haze stagnates my brain
through the cobwebs in my eyes.

Wanna coil up my coif to a blonde afro,
don my favorite jeans, snug not tight.
Play me some Clinton, Southern Culture or Waits
I’ll live an alias for the night.

Mild mannered mannequins we are by day,
a survival routine only justified
by snatching up scattered time-crumbs wherever found
time to truly be alive

dance, love, laugh, live... "cease not till death"