2024

in the brick-shaped building
near the 77’s last stop
next to car dealership one and two
in front of the meadows
there’s two therapists
a few contractors
then us who are inspectors
who sit on loot pile carpet
yoga balls and slouchy executives
some desks are window adjacent
others aren’t
which will define your vitamin D level
and there’s robovac
bumping into table legs
the bathroom here a loud hum
the sound of clicking
my typing which is this poem
but will appear as work
the lunch room dark as dusk
fluorescent lighting elsewhere
which is such a pretty word
what else is there to say?
there’s a cafe down the road
the ladies who run it are assholes
but it’s close
I know nobody in this building
the bus stop is right across the road
this will be the quietest year.