Cubicles, crisp, bland and white.
A melding together. Transformation. Unisexually. Trangenderish. As one.
No opinions. No power. Beliefs transfixed in the brain.
Never to be beckoned.
Safely tucked away.
Politically diversely correct.
One dare not challenge.
A goes here. B goes there, nevermind about C. A number. A mere 1984.
Orwellian. And so we go on. The mutation occurs. Xanax. Paxil. On and on.
Beard to goatees to jeans and sneakers. Anxiety and depression abound.
Psychiatric doctoral dream. Stress is in the air!
Privacy nonexistent. All is known. You Tube thrives within the goldfish bowl..
Shattered positions everywhere!
The corporate smiles. The corporate stares. The pasted grin.
Let’s do the shuffle. A meets B. B meets C. Whatever happened to D?!
Ah yes here’s your gold star…stick it on your lapel.
And dance. The steel concrete sanctioned dance.
But not across the cubes.
Dance within. Times New Roman. Number 12.
The Almighty hand. The good hand.
Let it not smother you as it’s grip encloses. Blue and white.
Be aware. Never dance without protection.
Eagle eyes are necessary.
Be as sleek as the wolves.
Share your genius. Unbeknownst. Unrecognized.
Time to move on.
Another shuffle. Shuttle is arriving. So long E .
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