Cubicle World
The day ejected me like bad Taco
and I tumbled out onto my mattress
prepared to stare up at my mobile all night.
Sleep would not come to me in that darkness.
only the induced coma
of obsessive thoughts
of counting my mistakes that day.
Sheep counting would not work this time.
I take a deep breath
hoping to expel those critical voices in my head
to even out my breathing
so as to avoid that panting pace
I knew might signal a panic attack.
'Great.' I thought ' I have them just where they want me.'
All my morning resolve for the day had dissolved like water going through a sieve.
No War worse than an Office War;
no sweet smile covers best than that which conceals the cobra's lunge.
over the top of the cloth wall.
I steely mouth the silent insult hurled my way
but alas Cubicle world is not sound proof and my comment is heard by all but not the insult which provoked it.
An bad word is heard by all but a silent insult is deadly and heard by none.
All in a day's work in Foxhole Cubicle World.
I am in my night time casket
wondering if the next morning
if the boss is going to show up
to close the lid
and partition out my cubicle
phone and laptop
pronouncing me
free to walk
the LA streets.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
Added by Poetry Lover
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