dragging down the dead
hallways of morning
I wonder what it all means
how sex and sustenance
had evolved
into the 8-hour job

I wonder about the first
caveman that dreamt
of basement offices
fluorescent lights
adjustable chairs
Ikea desks
snack machine lunches
meticulous spreadsheets
project deadlines
remote supervisors
write-ups
quarterly reviews
and a cost-of-living raise

Man,
he must’ve been
one stinking, starving
son of a bitch

I imagine him
being mauled to death
by the tiger
he gave up on

and good riddance

————

Nathaniel Sverlow is a freelance writer of poetry and prose. He was born in 1983 in San Diego, California, and has since spent most of his time hunched over a laptop randomly pressing keys. He currently resides in the Sacramento area with three cats, one incredibly supportive wife, and a newborn son. His previous publishing credits include Typehouse Literary Magazine, Map Literary, Ricky’s Backyard, Black Fox Literary Magazine, Literary Orphans, Squawk Back, and Bone Parade.