Today
I feel generic,
replaceable as Tupperware.
My lofty ideals, values
altruism
have given way
to a reality of windowless office cubicles
slouching over screens
backache-inducing desk chairs
microwaved lunches, sad and salty soup
measurable objectives and tense necks
conference calls and Zoom links
failure and fluorescent lights
highway commutes, gas stations
donuts and diet soda
staff meetings and small talk
marketing and branding
greasy keyboards, program evaluations
webinars and gossip
slogans, taglines
jpegs and Google docs
passive-aggressive memos
strategic planning, professional development
battles of power, ego and passion
games of manipulation.
Wallowing in the virtual world
to save the real one.
Supposedly.
Today, what have I accomplished?
Let me report my data:
Battling the printer for 90 minutes,
I wasted 43 pages of un-recycled paper
searched 12 minutes for my stapler
dropped 7 paperclips behind my desk
left 11 sticky note messages
re-wrote my "to do" list twice
sent 29 emails
avoided 5 phone calls
daydreamed through 3 hours of meetings
all fueled by 2.5 cups of coffee, 36 M&Ms, and 4 aspirin.
Today
the futility of my labor
the inauthenticity of my life
descends upon me
with the damp fog of dread.
Years, years of my life,
where have they gone?
My evening commute--
driving home from saving the world,
I glimpse a dead kestrel on the roadside
all rusted blood and blurred feathers
next to the ubiquitous plastic bags and aluminum cans
and speed on by
so fast, my mind barely registers
its limp wings fluttering in the January wind.
