You stand tallest! Alongside mountains, looking down
at your insects below. Your long, strong arms
cross a heaving chest of a man; one who
drinks whiskey from God’s own hands.
Our trembling knees wobble past your
black Pinch Tassel’s. We would swing from
your silk, pin-striped tie if we knew
it would strangle you!
I have waited by the water.
I have slept on spore infected carpet
and have rotted away,
have been filed away,
in between four walls and
a blue jacket.
Do you want your coffee, sir?
Do you have a dead line, sir?
Can I give you a hand job, sir?
And the air stays cold,
Antarctica is near.
Love this piece! I can almost smell that carpet!
So deeply full of resentment that it hurts.
“I have waited by the water.
I have slept on spore infected carpet”
don’t we all do this, at some point in time, some point in space, within our domain, within our reach and sometimes even outside our reach.
Loved the line!
I love the image of the pin-striped tie.
very good maggie.
Love the precision and ire of this Maggie… “Can I give you a handjob sir?” Said in the sweetest and blandest of tones of course… 😉
What an outstanding poem.
I’ve lived in that corporate world.
First sentences call to my memories about Jesus Christ statue in Brasil.
Way to take me on a journey. Get me out of myself and my reality, a lasting expression