7:20 AM – Homer
Sing, O Goddess, of the anger of Gordon, of House Brown, that wrought curses at the jackass who goes thirty in a forty-five! And which is that state that sent up this quarrel? It is California, to whence proud Gordon shouts that the driver should fucking return to.
Thus he did pray, and Apollo heard his prayer. For the wine-colored Corolla did move out of the fast lane and went north, to the parking lot of the Home Depot.
And now, O Muses, tell me –
For you are goddesses and are in all places so that you see all things –
How does the moron in front of me not see that the light has turned green? Though I had ten tongues, and though my voice failed me not, and my heart were of bronze within me, I would roll down my window and make him a gift of a dove (verily, I would give him the bird). Alas, he is either as blind as Homer or looking at his damned phone.
8:01 AM – Jalal Al Din Rumi
Where did the handsome key-card go?
I wonder, where did that slender, snow-colored wonder go?
It opened the way before me,
Where did it go? So strange, where did it go without me?
Go to the road and ask any passing traveler –
Where did it go?
Like a madman, I search the sidewalk!
O pigeons on the sidewalk, where did it go?
All alone in the parking lot, where did that useless hunk of plastic go?
My heart flutters within me,
A drumbeat of realization,
O joy for this soul and this heart!
It is in my pocket
It has been there all along
12:00 PM – The Unknown Author of Beowulf
In the employee break room then Gordon, bairn of the Brown-clan,
Beloved clerical-worker, for long-lasting fiscal quarters,
Was famed mid the office drones,
Yet grim-mooded over dixie cups from bountiful watercooler,
He has but one hour for lunch, and Nate, the monster of evil,
Has dragged the TV remote to his table,
Gordon, mighty vanquisher of spreadsheets, lets moan most woeful slip his lips,
For Nate, hateful despot, plunderer of lunches clearly-marked, has chosen FOX News,
With loathsome malice, has increased the volume to 56
2:30 PM – Li Bai
Dry leaves scrape against asphalt parking lot
Set dancing by autumn breeze
On this spot, drifting clouds of smoke echo ghost of cigarette,
Tarrying on wind, they are carried on a journey of one hundred thousand li,
The high sun sends me seeking shade by the dumpster,
In alley by the eastern wall, a homeless man is masturbating furiously
He waves at me, but I turn my gaze elsewhere
3:47 PM – Sappho
Come out of the printer…
But in pity hasten, come now if ever
It’s no use
Mother dear, I
Can’t finish my filing
You may blame Aphrodite
Killed me with
Print Port Error 0×000409- – -
5:00 PM – David son of Jesse
Blessed is he
Who does not request overtime on a Friday,
Or procrastinate his weekly report until the last second,
Or get cornered by Phil by the reception desk,
But whose delight is in clocking out on time,
And who makes strides to his car upon the wings of an eagle,
That person shall be like a tree planted by streams of water,
Not in that he shall prosper and not wither,
But more in the sense that he shall be stuck in one place for fucking ever,
Ye, for that jackass in the purple Corolla has somehow gotten in front of me,
And is doing twenty-five in the left lane with his left blinker on,
Are you kidding me?