Work Pome

 Writing Center

 

The worst part about work was

Having to talk to people,

So that the holy part was

Drained out before I got home

To the ones I’d gone there for.

The worst times were when it was

Slow—no, the worst times were when

It was busy and a day

Slipped by like a swift river.

We sat in unnatural

Light, discussing the rules of

Punctuation and grammar

With disinterested students.

I admit that sometimes they

Cared a lot more than we did.

It was a long scoreless game.

We sat there and we sat there.

With whoever came through the

Door, fixing their brungs and brangs,

Killing all the holy parts.