Labyrinth

The Minautor is there
Nearby
Four or Five cubicles away, tops.
I can hear him cough from time to time

A flock of deadlines flew overhead this morning
And their urgent piercing screeches made me start;
I was daydreaming over a schedule

Simon left the cubicle last Tuesday
He was heading for the alluringly distant call
Of an improbable coffee machine

The Auditors must have surprised him
His carcass is filed away in a subterranean server
Somewhere, offline.

I used to dream of the outside

In another life