Song of the Break Room

I feel so cheap when I parody Walt, but the words just come so easily…

five by five hundred

I celebrate the break room. I sing of the break room.
I loiter at its table, in a chair from the conference room.
The original chairs have collapsed under the weight of lunchtime levity.

I lean and loaf at my ease observing the box of Munchkins left over from the
morning’s Executive Committee meeting.
Only the plain cake ones remain, unadorned,
fit only for consumption when desperation beckons.

I have seen this postcard tacked to the bulletin board.
I have taken in its representation of warmth, frivolity, intoxication.
I have studied it and presumed much.

Gentle breezes redolent of pineapple, perhaps Coppertone.
Turndown service. It evokes the luxury that one has paid to enjoy.
No cheese Danish in a bag hung on the door handle, this.

Its reverse side bears happy tidings, promises of swift return.
The person who sent it two years ago no longer works here.

View original post 194 more words

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s