Poetry: The people where I work

The people where I work

The people where I work

Are all odd

I don’t mean to be rude

And most definitely not crude

But there is something most assuredly

Wrong

We begin at eight

Heh! Those emails won’t wait!

Our desks are identical

Which doesn’t make sense at all

As we value free thought, discourse and chat

We’re known to be flexible

Creative and sensible

But where in the manual is that?

Vacant stares they abound

And slights and jibes

Follow me around this strangest

Of strange menageries

Going home

I conclude

Is the end to today’s crazy interlude

And plan my flight

Alone

But some

Stay on

Whether from fear

It’s just not clear

But tenacious in their stares they remain