Wednesday, January 9, 2019

Automatic Weapon

My old boss,
she had a voice like a machine gun.
This was because she was an actual machine gun.
When she walked in the aisles between cubicles,
people dramatically dove under their desks
or lay unresponsive at her feet.
She never ran out of ammo.
But sometimes she would take a long lunch,
and we’d all exhale slowly,
counting the minutes until her return.

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