Wednesday, July 24, 2013

The Music Overhead

Wheezy, boozy, lazy
alto saxophone wavering
over my head.
Piped in through speakers
while I sit in my cubicle.

It’s noir-ish and gritty,
black and white.
I feel like Sam Spade.
Feet propped up on
my huge oak desk,
cigarette dangling
from my lip, the
sting of last night’s
whiskey still fresh.

I’m trying to decide if
that dame will be
trouble or if she’s the
innocent plaything of
the wealthy Mr. Cairo.

Except, that’s not it.
I’m really trying to
solve the mystery
of why I’m in this
cubicle in the first
place, instead of some
job that I actually
fit into.

I’d rather work in the
realm of imagination
than the realm of
clocks and nit-picking
nonsense of the day to day.

I’ve realized that I’m not
cut out for it, after nearly
20 years. Cue the car chase,
it’s time to make a break for it.

The music has changed.
It’s now something groovy.
Or at least what passes for
groovy by Musak standards.

Finding something new though,
that will take some detective work.
Hopefully it’ll be to a soundtrack
I enjoy, doll face. (Wink)

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