Rotting men walking rotted streets,
as rotten scents choke the pungent air.
Their tired, weary, restless feet
pound the agitated concrete,
which is as worn and weary
as the people who so rudely
stomp its grayed features.
They make their way to their jobs,
their means of survival, the place
where much like zoos and reserves,
they are poked and prodded, pestered,
and provoked by smiling, grinning men
who are above them on the evolutionary
totem pole that we call the rat race.
So they laugh off the abuse labeled as 'jokes',
they suffer and endure countless injustices
from their fellow animals and their zookeepers,
all so that they continue to earn their measly peanuts,
all in hopes that they can save their nuts,
and maybe buy something that will
give their own existence some new meaning.
A new car, a new TV, a new bit of restless noise,
new white static that will fill the void of
emptiness that they all suffer inside,
and then when the new becomes old,
the process starts anew with another
new trinket or new toy to make more noise.
And so they return home from their misery-laded
job, to a home of misery where their wife
chides them and chastises as a way to
vent her own frustrations at her own personal zoo
where she was poked and prodded and made
to question her own self-worth, her own happiness.
She yells at them for forgetting to put the clothes
in the dryer, although she had clearly said the night
before that she would take care of it and then
she fusses at them for forgetting to put his cup up
even though they were JUST getting ready
to throw it in the dishwasher if she would just
give them a minute to finish their sandwich.
It takes all their strength to not just scream
right back and give her something worth
yelling over, but as their teeth clench,
and their eye twitches, they simply nod
and yes dear until she is satisfied, and leaves
them to go work on their sudoko after-dinner.
With the dishes put up, the clothes in the dryer,
as they are sure to not make the same mistake
twice, their children approach them, begging for
attention and affection, and while they can't blame them,
right now they just want to take a minute to relax
and not hear any more voices of any kind.
But as the child raises their voice to scream,
they wave them off and give them what they wish
for hours, until they tire themselves, and mercifully,
most mercifully, they can be put to bed and put
out of mind for the rest of the night.
The midnight hour fast approaches,
and so they resolve to enjoy the last few hours
of their night, but right as they prepare to
enjoy the newest episode of the newest tv shows,
their smartphones bleats its high-pitched ring.
Its their zookeeper, asking if they can come
into work tomorrow early, even though its the weekend,
and they were promised to get the weekend off,
for the fifth time in as many weeks, but they REALLY
need them to come in and help the cause.
They want to scream, they want to shout,
but they know they can't refuse, because
the first time they dare to, they will be treated
like even worse dirt on shoe if not outright
replaced by a more willing circus animal.
So, through a forced grin,
that can be heard over the phone,
they accept and thank their keeper
for giving them the opportunity
to work once more, and as they hang up,
their wife asks who it was calling at this long hour
They explain it was just their work,
wanting them to come in again, which
makes the wife mad, as she yells at him
for not spending enough time with her
and the kids and why can't he just say no
every once in a while, it's not like they'll
fire him for not showing up one time.
The wife doesn't understand that
his job is what funds her spending,
her lifestyle, their lifestyle, for that matter,
in spite of their best attempts to explain,
and so they fight, and fight, into the night,
until they just decide to give it up, and go to sleep.
The sun rises, and they get up, and
eat their eggs, and put their cup up, and
get dressed, and get ready for one more day
at work hoping that at least sunday will be a free day,
but they have an odd sick feeling in their stomach
that they'll be called in once more early in the morning,
and be forced to make that same rotten walk
to their same rotten old miserable job.
