Verse Exercises

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What To Do With An Hour

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First Note of a Series: Scrounging Up a Worker’s Retrospective

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As my disenchantment grew, the more the desire in me bloomed to be physically absent, to extricate myself from the the desk and the chair, the cubicle and the monitor, the proximity card and the glass door that held me captive, not as prisoner by way of restrained flesh, but by way of restrained mind through the symbols they represented – labor, duty, and privileged access. I would begin counting the minutes, calling forth my elementary mathematics, my trusty arithmetic, to sum up the precious time I could get away-from the long tortuous interlude of shooting down the building on the elevator, and then finally, out the building and onto the streets of Ayala-to walk among the automatons and caffeine-infused zombies heading purposefully to the all important job or milling about sucking a drag from their filtered sin-taxed cigarettes (with the same air of importance). I had nowhere to go, nowhere to be but out here, outside, where the wind blew, without shield from sun and rain and all the menace that weather could muster: golden afternoon sunshine and its warming heat, the gloom of an overcast sky, and the occasional drizzle; tender and light on the skin. I would lose myself in the side streets, aimless, but for once, that day, alive, myself, breathing.

Read the next note in the series: Monday Morning Transit

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Written by thedoe

September 8, 2013 at 11:11 pm

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