Ruminations of a Working Man, Pt. IX: Scatterbrain Whimsy or Bust

Back and forth, the world goes round, and I’m right here, right here, right now, and every word that comes from my mouth can’t seem to say please let me out, so I rock back and forth in my office chair, roll over here, roll over there, bounce up and down when I get bored, wield my measuring stick like a sword, and fight off the wee beasties that constant surround, bury dreaded normalcy six feet under ground, oh lookie lookie, here comes my hero now, an urge for the restroom, an excuse to get out, so I make my great escape to the porcelain goddess and pretend not to hear my neighbor’s unfortunate conquest, I sure hope he’s okay, but before I blink, I am sitting back at my desk for another think, think thought wish wought nonsense or die, it’s a surprise that I ever found a way to survive to see another piece of paper blank and anxious, squirming beneath my pen, full of nothing and regrets, so I scribble some words that make far too much sense, and add a doodle of Manhattan to make recompense, I’ll go for a walk an hour before noon, according to everyone else, it’s an hour too soon, but I’ll stand in my spot on the parking garage’s peak and wait for my distant city to speak, it yells, “run away! run away! you poor little sot,” I’d say I’m offended, but I’m certainly not, because my city knows I don’t belong, and so does my cubicle, we all know this is wrong, and someday when I make my great escape, I’ll be cut by a sticky note and cover it with tape, and I’ll remember the times I’ve miserably spent, sitting alone, my dreams up for rent, I promise my escape will come someday soon, mayhaps in a month, mayhaps an hour before noon, mayhaps when I see a city, bright and shiny and new, or mayhaps, my Love, I’ll finally find you.