"adulthood"

COHORT 4

American Sonnet for the Workplace

The years spring past us: futile and forgotten

to the whirring telephones and breakroom vending

machines. The pencil tapping turned drumming.

The office now a concert hall. Suits exchanged

for band tees and leather; employees scream
their heads off—chanting for raises. We mosh

to budget reports and workplace gossip. Choke

Mary, who got the highest bonus last cycle.

Us lazy-eyed, coffee-stained climbers of

the corporate ladder. (A bunch of kiss asses.)

When the show finishes at five, we flex

our battle scars: Look, look, life cut me here.

One day I woke and was two decades older.

One day I’ll wake and forget how to lie.