Archive for January, 2008

(by request: people who show up late to meetings with Starbucks coffee in their hands)

His collar is perfect,
His tie sublime,
But our meeting started
At quarter to nine.

I know that he’s more
Up the ladder than I,
But I can’t help but feel
That I want him to die.

I break my neck
Every single a.m.
To be here by eight
Or I hear it from him.

Yet yonder he cometh
At nine and a half
With Starbucks in hand,
Soy latte half caf.

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