Highly Productive


a moving sidewalk of business suits
and ladder-climbing skirts
that end exactly where the knee does.
they march in sequence,
choreographed by a higher power
though clearly not high enough,
but what does navy blue know about god anyway?
we meander through the throngs.
their one-way conversations pass us by
as they scurry for cover in the rain.
cars honk and wipers whoosh away spontaneity
so we take the water route instead
and let the minutes tick away.
yes, it’s here on the seawall
that stories bob up and down
and laughter crests with the waves.
words roll and tumble along
like kids on a playground
and we pretend we’re on holiday.
but even we can’t beat
reality at its game.
inevitably the concrete leads
straight to a set of glass double-doors
where the dreams we share are
a tragically worthless masterpiece.
we punch in hard and fast,
as if we were punching someone out
but we’re lovers not fighters,
so we play games like couples do;
role plays and extended lunch dates
and craft lovely letters by company mail.
we design in our minds
and doodle in our notebooks
or tap out poems between meetings.
and at the end of the day
we defy the bosses
and baffle the corporate accountants
because our eight hours
add up to far more.

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