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.