What I Might Have Said

to my fellow workers

imagine an eternal circle together
creating a golden pillar
beside the Atlantic
Being able to enter into
insidious contracts with it
I just lament
I released the venal
and rotten parliamentarism
I study the scenes
and would provide
an escape rather
than a solution
gaseous
when we needed
it viscous ever
combustible when
confessing one’s
feelings strike out
your vitalism there
are no extra Zelda lives in this Collective
Bargaining agreement only syphoned tears
and unpaid rent

Mise en Place

everything in its
place

they insist we are creating
a culture

is it not the inverse?
a culture

molding us in its own
image

in the way that we work it
no diggity

you’ve got to bag it up

9.50 an hour and the skin on
my fingers peeling, folding
down like a banana

“he likes the way we work it
no diggity”
you’ve got to bag it up