One spirit(Poem)

Joe came to the
computer-ed office.
he’s skipping the weak smiles,
pigeon rides and ghostly hopes
of weekends now.

only eats the meal
never enjoys them.
cannot respond back
to the dragon’s song now.

Without work
and the tax clerk
life’s an abandoned cocktail party.

the icebox called the office
is cold to
leaves and the grief.

all the meats
in the cabin
are uncooked and
to the boss-witch
up in the ladder.

A few headlines to see
in the morning.
A few deadlines to meet
in the night.

for joe
are hanging clothes
wear on occasions—
to butter up the CV.

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