Poetry

That May Be, 13 (134.)

It may be true
that remote work is hard to do,
but music carves a nice path through it.
One cup, two cups, maybe three cups of coffee,
and fingers fly across the keyboard
to destinations and deliverables unknown.
To quantify productivity, ah, the bane
of us all! Hairs will fall
as hours worked must be justified
and home time turns us to contemplative distraction.
“This song slaps” crosses brainways more than once
and violence mingles with violins
in a fucked-up cacophony.
Why are all the positive connotations
connected to destruction?
“You crushed it,” “That’s a banger,” “This riff slays,”
the list of looping verbiage strikes me (ha!)
as too much.
I try to introduce
creative compliments into the mix:
“You’re good at guiding us,” “Thanks for clarifying that,”
“That was illuminating,” light, light,
it’s
a lot of light.
How else will we make it to the future unscathed?
Light a beacon, lead the way, explore
these wonderful wild places
together.

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