i cease to live at five o’clock
when office doors slam
and officemates scatter
like petals fallen from a branch.
outside, an early shower
pours out of a vacant sky
and in the grayness of the hour,
my lie begins.
i stick it out in a traffic jam
while far ahead the floods will not subside;
this tiresome wait on this endless line
drives me deeper into my lie.
i only live from nine to five
minus lunch breaks in between;
this officemate i can love
but only in my dream.
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