I wish sometimes
when people don't get me
or give me anything.
Not to say I don't feel
or love, but I want
emotions on my own terms,
at least once in awhile.
So I'll stay solitary
and write something,
but the most interesting
subject matter
is carbon-based.
After twelve years,
my retirement party
will be those who can
make it after work today.
My speech will be
the sipping sound I make
on my third beer.
No video tribute or tears.
Plus, they are the ones
who kept my job,
to whom I lost,
but with whom I feel comfortable.
Better than the bosses, anyhow.
Later, at the bar:
shorter the skirt
lower the top
better the tip
And the whisper of, "You smell like I thought you would."
Later, I lamented to myself
Of course she's attracted to Tim
When I wanted the excitement
Of homewrecking my way
Ali likes Tim because
he likes stuff
loud, obnoxious, and dirty.
He gives her a mint,
which she treats
as a big deal. Why?
Wait, it's because he told her
she was taking the boss's spot
but that was all to get to hers.