Victoria Chang

Issue #
February 18, 2013

[The boss is not poetic writing about the boss is not poetic]

The boss is not poetic writing about the boss is not poetic
a corporate pencil doesn’t gallop
dactyls one foot two feet six feet seven the boss
only has two feet the rain taps its

trimeters all over my roof the boss can only jump up and
down in one spot the boss cannot do the
splits the rain splits into pieces the rain slants into
my face into my eyes that are not really

slanted the boss only rhymes with cross and loss
poem rhymes with palindrome and loam a desk is
not poetic either it has four sides hard and stiff a
Herman Miller chair loses question marks

through its holes as it holds a Herman or a Miller one day
I watch a shrill pelican dive straight down into
the water a waiter brings us fish on a plate a pelican
swallows a fish whole a pelican is the boss

with its endless office of sky I could stand on the pier
the whole day and peer at the pelicans that fall
from the sky with their briefcases of fish in their
oily grey suits and shined black shoes

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