9 to 5 (or 6 or midnight),
a cartoon hunchback
in a cut-out cubicle
humming mindless Muzak,
typing mindless memos
to remind his mindless boss
of his mindless meetings
in mindless bistros
full of mindless waiters
and the mindlessness of
so much minestrone
slurped alone or in
the company of corporate drones
who throw him a bone
and make him work overtime for free
‘cause he’s temp-to-perm
but I hear the firm has
its eye on him.
He puts on his fake moustache
and goes to work.
He won’t get promoted
He won’t leave this cubicle
He’ll never slide into the comfortable tedium of
He’ll never buy his mom that house
He’ll never vacation in the placid reflux of the
or get lost in the mindrot Rivieras
with a bunch of executive asshole buddies
in a state of joyous, drugged-out mindlessness
scoring with the babe of his dreams.
He will, however, get full benefits. Including top-notch
from a leading HMO. It even includes dental!