In Rochester, on East Avenue,
A greyish soul treks off to work,
Throws back the coffee handily,
Sleepily pays the sales clerk-
His gaze is now transfixed by a tree
Colorful and flowering
Wishes he could stay outside
Alas, the tasks are towering…
He checks and sets the openness
Of his eyes in his image in the glass,
So as not
to make it seem
he’s as gone
as he is;
Stumbles past the guard, plops down on his ***
Planted thus, in front of his monitor,
In a cubicle, first floor, across from the lab,
Curses his fate for landing him here,
In this windowless slogging, dark and drab.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 8:44 AM UTC
In Rochester, on East Avenue,
A greyish soul treks off to work,
Throws back the coffee handily,
Sleepily pays the sales clerk-
His gaze is now transfixed by a tree
Colorful and flowering
Wishes he could stay outside
Alas, the tasks are towering…
He checks and sets the openness
Of his eyes in his image in the glass,
So as not
to make it seem
he’s as gone
as he is;
Stumbles past the guard, plops down on his ***
Planted thus, in front of his monitor,
In a cubicle, first floor, across from the lab,
Curses his fate for landing him here,
In this windowless slogging, dark and drab.
