CUBICLE LAND (from the YEAR 2000)

I have spent many hours,
passing my glass of existence,
around the table to those next door...

Burning up what life has left,
burning up life...

The office worker becomes mystified,
the mystification extends past the line.

The white-collar mystification
portends something new,
something as yet untold.

The amazement at bureaucratic poetry,
the amazement at structural dishonesty,
being amazed by institutional chaos.

Passing my glass of life,
Next to my cubicle.

Breathing and carrying-on,
talking, 
chatting, 
waiting for the next break.

A copier machine sends false light,
shedding copies,
shredding freedom,
echoing promise,
releasing energy of pent up anger,
at forces all too well known.

Idle time is spent like this,
wandering corridors of my spirit,
looking for multi-tasking conversation,
to guide me home.