Sunday, January 20, 2013

Union Rules -A Poem


Small levers work a big machine,
at least that’s what the little man
in my brain says
during his union-mandated coffee break.

Apparently
there’s a break room
in my amygdala
with a coffee machine
that serves dreg coffee filtered
from salt water
refigerators that switch between arctic circle
and room temperature
and a foosball table
with both teams missing half their men.

I wonder where the microwaves are
for where the work crew
reheats leftovers from last night’s meals. 

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