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Sunday, September 2, 2018

Poetry: On Seeing the Sun on a Weekday


The frosty LEDs flicker overhead, 
Dispersing monotone rays of white on beige 
I feel a fresh migraine approach 
Sip the stale coffee cooling next to my keyboard. 

The girl beside me in the rainbow dupatta, 
Leans over empty staplers and stained manila 
To whisper: ‘The boss is going on a holiday,
Won’t be back before salary day.’ 

I’m told this is cause for celebration 
The best you can make of a bad situation. 
And I suppose I’d feel some of this ecstasy, 
If my soul weren’t screaming for aspirin. 

The words on the screen swirl and dance 
Dupatta girl spares me an expectant glance 
Before turning to the gentleman to her right 
Replays her message of freedom and flight. 

‘It’s been a while’, someone says 
Since we’ve seen the sun on a weekday. 
‘It’s been longer’, snaps another 
Since I took a smoke break and wasn’t bothered. 

I grant these are all valid concerns, 
Nobody enjoys a meeting with flooded lungs. 
We also need a new coffee machine 
Someone really should get the filters cleaned. 

They filed a report with the HR department 
Got an electric kettle and a higher sales target. 
Which they didn’t meet ’cause the phones were dead 
And were allocated a raise of two percent. 

That’s ‘cause you can’t put a Band-Aid, you see 
On a laceration of the third degree. 
Sunless days of endless excel sheets 
Aren’t fixed with extra caffeine and weekend retreats. 

Still, you can give me a ride back home, 
When the sun’s gone, the streets are monochrome. 
For now, I’d settle for a quick smoke break, 
Vitamin D’s overrated anyway.

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