[Drafts Folder, cont'd]
On Working
===========================
I wear a uniform every day at work
and that's all I want: a job without
Uniforms. Because without the traces
of flora on my shirts; the loudness,
I find it harder to hear, to listen, to look.
There's a man who comes in so often
and memorizes model numbers, then
spends twenty minutes or more
convincing you he owns them.
He always goes to the wires first. We,
the uniformed, gray and lifeless,
are looking to sell wires
so that a number on the screen
goes up when we look at it.
It makes the boss happy, so
he doesn't fire us.
This man, he has no teeth and he tells me
the history of electronic surge protectors.
I don't care and I realize I am not listening.
It's times like this
that you'd be tempted to think
the rich are better people.
They ask you questions
and they listen, and you can tell
they are sane, because sometimes
you have to convince them.
