it’s day 9647 and a man made a comment about how i look again
casual, while we were standing near the coffee machine
and all i did was wring my hands
all i ever do is wring my hands
it’s hour 6 and I can’t stop thinking about how my dad sat up in bed that night
after hearing about the coworker who complimented my shirt
followed by what was under it
it’s day 9647 and i keep replaying the times i cried alone on the sticky bathroom floor, then went back and typed out expense reports
clicking on the keyboard and wondering if i should dress in something slightly less tight tomorrow
even though that dress was my favorite shade of lilac
it’s day number 9647
and i can tell you the devil isn’t anywhere near georgia
he’s in the sales office and hangs down near the hr dept
he plays poker the eyes of the man who said goodmorning to me
and skates in his hands when they get too close
it’s day number 9647
and maybe there won’t be a 9648
and everyone in the building will say what a shame
and pack up my keyboard
and say what a talent what a talent what a shame
then forget about me on day 9649
then susie will be next and nancy will follow
more days more keyboards to pack, less talent, and more shame
so so so so much shame
but not enough to end it
it’s never enough to end it
clothes never loose enough
days never fast enough
coffee never warm enough
and never talented enough to be looked at different
but it’ll always be such a shame
such a shame
such a goddamn shame