In Which I Think The Ol' 9-5 (7:30-4?) is Draining My Creativity Away.

gimme that old-time
vice, baby, that
good-time
need-escape
colour
because how can you live
so grey so icebox grey
and sharp-edged
without something
to keep you
awake,
let alone alive --
what's alive, anyway,
sweetheart?
unless you're talking
blood-pumping brain-waving
takemeouttahere
altered states or
human contact,
and any of those
more than once a week
will only leave you
steel-greyer,
straight-colder than before.

In Which I Describe My Weekend/Monday In Stupid and Disjointed Haiku.

Saturday:

Even after so
few hours, your scent lingers on
these blue-moon bedsheets.

Chattering and smiles
should be given more credit
for the lives they save.


Sunday:

Every day should be
so lullingly spent in dreams,
so full of heartbeats.

I wonder if Jane
shows off her pubes in heaven
and laughs at her fans.

Monday:

The day flies right by
when instead of headset scripts
you've got vampire sex.

Even words on screens
are better than solitude
on scorching Mondays.

In Which My New Call-Center Job Melts My Brain Cells

hello, thank you for calling;
for security purposes,
can I please advise
that you hang up now,
hang up and step away from your phone
or other communication device
before you get put on hold for longer
than the time you set aside for this call,
or transferred one or sixteen more times
to anything but help.

and I would just like to inform you that,
during this call,
I would like to use records of
your every thought and action
to suggest products and services
in a fake-smile monotone high pitch,
and that protecting this information
is your right
and my duty
under federal law or maybe just a moral code,
and your answer will probably affect your service
today. how may i assist you?
yes, sir. no, sir.
I completely understand, sir.

sir, do you mind if I just place you on a brief hold
while I go over your account
and finish colouring this picture
and ask my supervisor
who quit? and
who's fired? and
who's taking whom to the club tomorrow night?
thank you, sir.
hello, sir? thank you for holding, and
I do apologize for the delay.
It looks like this problem is not on our end
but on yours, or maybe your local service
fucked it up, cuz it sure wasn't us,
so what you'll have to do is call them
and tell them to change your routing
to none.

and before you go, is there anything else I
can do to ensure
you're very satisfied with my service today?
all right, sir, thank you,
and can I interest you in anything,
anything at all? no?
all right, sir, thank you for calling, sir,
and you
have a
wonderful day.