Ode To The Guy in the Next Cubicle May 9, 2011
Posted by Matt in poetry.Tags: bad poetry, cubicle life, work
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The guy in the next cube keeps talking to himself
And I’m not sure what he’s saying.
He’ll mutter along, occasionally curse
I can’t tell if he’s angry or playing.
“What!” he will shout for all to hear
Then commence with indecipherable grumbling
So deep and so loud the temporary walls start to shake
With the force of his low voiced rumbling
Is he insane? Is he disturbed?
Or maybe perhaps schizophrenic?
Should I be at all worried, should I alert my boss?
Or remain just a bystanding cynic?
He stands up, he sits down as his voice ebbs and flows
An auditory tide in an ocean of sound
I look for a weapon, just in case the man snaps
And I’m forced to take the lunatic down.
Then I notice something that was hidden before
Jutting out on the side of his head.
A wireless earpiece for his work phone
And nothing that should cause me this dread.
So the mystery’s solved, the case it is closed
With nothing worthy of a beating
Now it’s time to end the bad poetry
And get to the next boring old meeting…
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