distraction

sometimes I feel like I am pushing
a baby buggy full of rocks
I want to put on my pink gorilla suit,
climb onto my bicycle and coast
up and down Mainstreet Ave.
waving at the cars that pass me by

I want to throw myself on the ground
and scream out profanities
blame the government for everything
unappealing in my life
until the cops come and haul me away

I want to sing Amazing Grace
(opera-style, of course)
until my throat hurts and I
feel parched
And the crowd is going wild

but instead I will sit here in this
boring meeting
while my colleagues ramble incoherently
about profit shares and marketability
and hope that my retirement comes before
insanity sets in.