April 22, 2020.
Not something I would normally write, it was mostly just a fun idea I did in a few minutes. Call centers, amiright? Some Mr. Rogers inspiration.
chewing my bubble gum with rage
in a cold room that smells like cigarettes from smoke breaks and strong, floral perfume
i am seated at a computer desk, endlessly calling number after number
with every minute, my face takes on a redder hue
with every minute, i sink lower in my chair debating slumber
but instead i introduce myself, am spoken over, am insulted
"not interested"-- "you have the wrong number"-- "i'm at work right now"
and in truth, i am not interested either but i see your number on my screen
if you were so busy, why'd you take the time to answer me?
and in moments when we bite our cheek,
when we anxiously bounce our legs and feet,
when we sigh, groan, yawn, and roll our eyes
we could talk about our feelings, we could bottle them up inside
we could punch a pillow, break a mirror
sip some tea, chamomile-- (with a taste like this, you better heal me)
we could scream and yell until our voices disappear
we could complain that we're sick and beg to go home early
we could play every piano key at once, B O O M
we could throw old books to wake their authors up
we could pound a lump of clay, take a breather in the bathroom
or simply rub our temples and think we've had enough
but instead, i am here, chewing my bubble gum with rage
only to take it out of my mouth when the next call answers
because i wouldn't want to annoy them
Poetry by aidan haskel
Read 201 times
Written on 2020-04-22 at 10:42
Tags Frustration  Humor
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