RISE UP
 

The smiling Manager,

his mind stuffed with sales figures and new products,

pitches his rhetoric of work

and it drops like a dirty baseball on the table in front of me

as I look over his shoulder and out the window.

 

What would happen if we all rose up,

threw down our faxes and sales slips and said

“This isn’t the essence of life!”

What if we all rose up,

guillotines flashing,

how many of us would there be?

 

What if I rose up,

threw down my faxes and sales slips and yelled

“This isn’t the essence of my life!”

What if I rose up

and went home and wrote?

How many would join me?

 

What if I rose up?