My door at work
“I told you to schedule that meeting last year!” She screamed.
“We are still within our timelines,” I said calmly.
Her face is red. She is shaking.
Another woman walks in. This one has more charm.
“We have a situation,” she said.
“We had a student go ballistic on the bus. You were supposed to schedule that meeting already.”
“Don’t worry. It’s a top priority.”
“Can we schedule it now?”
“In a week,” I said.
They think I like to play God, but even He gets bored.
When God couldn’t think of anything else to do
He created this mess, we call a universe
with a bang
It’s full of gas and people.
I close the door
to my world
and think about
what I want to create.
You will suffocate,
if you try to breathe the same air
because they constantly tell children what to do
and when they look at you
guess what they see?
Someone who needs instruction.
What does a lawyer see? Loop-holes.
What does a dentist see? Cavities.
What does a plumber see? Shit.
What do I see? People who conform to the expectations of their work.
Work will change you, so you should be mindful of who you become.
unwilling to be molded
is useless to society.
He’s a bum
or a God. I see him
on the street
with long hair, like Jesus
He claims to be the returned savior.
How do I know
Yes, or No?
I give him a quarter
just in case.
Then I think about
my creative space.
My door at work
“You’re a writer!?” She asks.
The word has gotten out. I posted a publication on Facebook.
This is the woman who is getting a second Master’s degree
to compete with me.
I wonder what people see, when they size me up?
Then they find something they can’t measure.
I don’t play
to be better.
I do it for pleasure.
The reason why they are miserable
is they don’t shut the gas out
They breath it in.
they can’t tell the difference
and breathable air.
I don’t care
I just look for a tiny room
to be alone.