:: Misspent ::

Complaints

I have a headache―
My eyes are starting to fail.
My fingers fly and flirt,
Sky captains of mission and fission,
Across my keyboard.
I type―oh, the hype―this and that,
Goes a voice; we need a sale,
A form, a fax, a mail.

I need a coffee, yes another―
My head is pounding steel.
But the phone rings and the fax sings,
Crying babies with scarlet fangs.
I answer―oh, hello―this and that,
Goes a voice; we need a brief,
A bill, a file, good grief!

I crunch out numbers, quickly―
My brain has fogged to chill.
But time tricks, like worn bricks,
Crashing down on my spine.
I cringe―oh the singe―this and that,
Goes a voice; we need to sell,
A car, an idea, all's well, ends well!

And the day arch from the weight
Of hours filled with minutes―
Meetings within dreams,
Dreams within minutes.