wishing my life away --
wishing for five p.m.
when I will be free
until tomorrow at 8 a.m.
when I must return
to these prison walls.
This routine, mandatory work
is killing me,
because I am stapled to this desk,
glued to this typewriter,
stuck on this computer,
taped to this calculator,
hung on this telephone,
filed in this office,
bound by that boss.
I dream about escape
to Paris, Rome, Zanzibar....
but not for long.
The telephone calls me back,
and the boss can't find his glasses.
Copyright © 1993 Ruth Gillis
in the Fall/Winter 1994 issue of Mobius
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