Office Gossip

Most of our time
was spent in its underbelly
where we crept our way
through its pillared alleys
of darkened concrete stained with love,
and explored its dimly-lit corners of trust,
our fingers passing over
new bodies
of water
after each and every rain.
It leaked like a sieve, you see,
and there were only
rivers of land to be walked on,
like ribbons in between.

Our hands were often shaking,
hearts trembling
cores aching
for truth or soothing lies,
as we hid ourselves away
in your metal coffin
(or mine,
dependant upon the day and time),
under the strip lights with broken bulbs
and it was in their eyes;
the others, the watchers,
as they peered from the darkness
outside the dim yellow glow
yielding the power
and glory
of doctored spin
and a story they told us
was older
than time.

We filled their days
with never-ending observance -
Will they?
Won’t they?
Do they resist or don’t they?
In the copy room? No…the parking level!
My goodness, that’s despicable!
But for all their talk,
not a soul really cared
nor interested themselves
in how we bled and died
on that cold concrete floor
beneath the tower lights
and lived on
years later
only
in the glow of office gossip
at the annual Christmas party.