October 31, 2014 by Wayne.
They huddle around the boxes, stray members flitting in and out
eyes on screens or affixed straight ahead, the hum of rustling feet
side-chain compressed into the flowing murmuring,
the chant of the station
Then the snowpiercer doors beep open and they flow in
Shirts – cheap synthetics crunching like crisp bags, sticking
to the backs, pleather shoes creasing and wrinkling
the long-sleeved, long-large-panted uniform of
drudgery and daytime devotion,
fingers tapping violently in the electric glow, sheets of
the tabulated backdrop of existence
In the front office, they bask and busk, shake heads at
Wolfsfeld and Mahbubani, square-crop photos of
drying strokes on cheap canvas
And we each passed the responsibility
of our own fingers upwards
The granulated rank and file, once soaked in disreality, drain quickly
It is therefore of utmost import that they are kept saturated
soaked in the acceleration of innovation, the inflating cost of
and what costs, at that.
Craftsmen of biaxially-oriented polypropylene
Oh well. At least we’re part of something bigger.
Anyway, it’s the weekend, man. Get some rest.