THE OFFICE WORKER

She steps out

First cigarette break of the day!

It is noon. Dove grey clouds. 

Her pussy-bow blouse!

Dappled in dusty rays of sun.

 

She inhales the deadly smoke

Blows a smoke ring curling

In the sky like a genee out of a bottle

Though her wishes are ungranted.

No promotion this year gone.

So much ambitions

In her core.

A silk blouse, a pin stripe suit

For every corporate occasion

Pusybow blouse in deepest purple

Now drenched in sweat

Yet still at the bottom of ladder.

 

The recurring dream.

She climbs up the ladder

Yet no one comes to her rescue

At her fall.

 

Her dream is rotated 

180 degree in daylight

No one comes to her rescue

The ladder remains unclimbed.

 

So her ambitions; once effervescent

are bottled;

Slime green in hue

 in her intestines

 

Alas IBS, the doctor says.

A ripe woman of forty.

She should know better.

 

She takes another drag from her cigarette. The youth today 

Don't find smoking very becoming.

She cares not.

 

Smoking again, are we?

It is the husky voice of the boss lady.

A decade younger than her own years.

She does not turn

To face her superior.

 

I resign she says

And walks away.

The slime green 

Jelly in her intestines 

Evaporates!

A smile! The muscles 

On her arched face

Relax.

 

 

Her ambitions

Need to be rehoused.

A furnished house, she hopes!