How Peaceful this Morning to Drive a Desk

How peaceful this morning to drive a desk
The culturally-despised desk, that cliché
The flat surface littered with papers and screens
And a telephone with buttons that light up

How lovely - fluorescents flickering over files
And not a yellow sun over shimmering muck
Lines for gas and water, rot and decay
And cast-off couches reeking in the heat

How peaceful - the ordinary all about
(Even though the men’s room is all wrecked out)