Poem V

Shittisms Series I


I feel like a xerox machine.
Not today especially,
but most days, yes.

Let me elaborate.
'Tis simple.

You put some input
(most usually it's bad quality
for starters),
you lower the toner levels
to almost a minimun.

And you press my button
(no, not that kind of button).
The killer routine
soft-rubber
user-friendly button.

Tiredly I start.
And I produce a bad copy
of your input shit
for you.

Sometimes then
you just walk away tired.
Othertimes then
blue murder ensues
and fucks are expleted
amidst exhibitions of blood rush,
corporate bravado,
workplace fencing,
and general crap clap.

That it then.
I quietly sit away.
Wainting for the standby phase.
When the night comes
and the office is empty.

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