rapid prose poem 26
He’s the office loud talker rant on about his used van conversion anti consumerist holy holy cold west wind. Must be so brave so tough to sleep in enough layers and not freeze in this freeze weather flurries frost forming ice around tires. Warm up the car and go through your ritual of laughing too much too loud not professionally nor maturely. Blame it on being an artist. That comes with certain hardships and certain entitlements. Day four and everyone’s whispering. Bring out the big guns and turn this office environment around. You can do that with your young new fresh eyes. Your diplomatic tongue your keen ears and your ranting mouth.