I remember Friday afternoons
4:30 on the clock computer keys
clacking like a huge cockroach
in high heels being chased
across a tiled floor
one last push to reach
the safety of my Outbox
and through Accounting’s front door
and the slow crawl home
draped over the wheel
poetry was a
bad banana then
I never ate the fruit
so consuming a rotten one
was beyond imaginable
yet here I am
late afternoon
pounding keys
tired hungry
with a job to finish
still more peeling
to be done
Comments