12.14.2006

Apocalypse, Please

Inane in the morning, vacuous in the afternoon.
Secret meetings, held in the open
around thin, gray cubicle walls;
the voices of the powerful rise
the spirit of the commoner falls.

Outside, on a dirty street corner
a quarter drops and lands on edge;
an old man dreams of taking match and sledge
to work and dear old boss, respectively.

During lunch, in a dirty pub:
affairs and drunken fools on stools.
She ordered salad, he ordered steak.
Elsewhere, you ordered split pea soup?
Oh, how I do hate peas;
I'll have the apocalypse, please
and medium-well
but spare my wife and child.

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2 Comments:

Blogger Josh said...

sounds like you've been spending too much time over at thoreaublog. "most men live lives of quiet desperation" (or something like that).

apocalypse = somebody kill me, please --OR-- something has to give, soon!

10:56 AM  
Blogger Inconsequential said...

Cool piece :)

Liked it lots.

4:56 PM  

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