Yet another corporate poem

There was talk of layoffs
and downsizings.
Middle management midgets
were all fidgety and excited,
palmpilot heroes
heralding new ages in,
tense, timorous, touchy,
the unsung martyrs,
hands on the direful banner
of shareholders' interest.

But people were just talking
quick to have a fag
on the last wind at noon.
All fed up and with raspy throats,
warming up to the upcoming rain,
that would cleanse us all
one by one,
woman and man,
whether unconcerned or bland,
or saucy and brash.