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TWO POEMS
FROM TROPIC/OF/CUBICLE

by

Roderick Maclean



On this day Len was right-
sized @3:23PM Sixteen of us are left in vacuum
smell area [E]
building:33

@4:00 in Queen Latifah
b/c Group Managers get to name
Conference Rooms there are two
& one half pizzas Beside parking lot "garden"

Len is a miniature through burnt coral Levlor
He begat the VULTURE intra-office listserv
@4:03 I will eat w/respect two slices of pesto/
black olive for Len

His cube is distributed
among us @4:08
I struggle to hold
his ERGOkeyboard Margie

Sturges now seizures in Cube222 A Ready-
Set-Temp goes mouth-to-mouth
til @4:10 I push him off & pull medicine from her
beige mini-backpack The time is 4:16 when I walk

Out & above Most Beautiful Highway In The World
through my dusty windshield a hawk swings
a snake from its talons & I
nearly dent a Mazda Miata


Today @ Nth Annual Picnic/Com-
petition/Lull-otomy might I reminisce
of a past that may not have passed?
Here before Tug-O-War can it be
me (THE TRANSNERDINAL) who struggles
to pick a side to pull from? Maybe months ago

In Cafetorium
Peter Franklin (THE BOOMER) held annoying Junk
Mail: "Mr. Pelt Frelkin" in one
hand Two tuna sandwiches in
other Soccer Dads Gary/Dick/Burt/Lee
at side & dressed in pressed chinos At near-

By table throng of Generation
X/Y (THE PROMISING) w/executive groupies
PowerLunching & surely mapping Early Boomer
Retirement (EBR) Peter
shed did he? tuna & knocked off early to exe-
cute himself The next working

Day Pelt Frelkin (THE GLORIOUS) introduced to
X/Ys his newly bald head
glistening futuristic Thick black
retro-frames on glasses
Silver synthetic
vest over chest hair Army pants & tongue

Stud W/amusement X/Ys Zach/P-Dub/Boingo accept-
ed Pelt A sort of
MiddleagedMascot but entitled to cutting edge
Accounts/Promotions/Skateboard
Rash along w/Boomer scorn & cold upper arm
of the law woman/two children (THE MISGUIDED)

Suckers of Pelt's success On side-
lines now my W/C chant w/crowd "Chubby/Old/
Proud" & Tug-O-Peter-Pelt (THE CONFUSED) is on
G/D/B/L have 200 lbs on X/Ys & all
eyes on me PF or PF
Which will it be?

I employ one moment to ruminate
on selflessness before wedging girth
between B & L & we yank & eat murky
mud when G & D's ACLs
rip The W/C run & hug me damp/defeated
as MediRedi bears my Boomers/broken away







ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Roderick Maclean worked in Silicon Valley during the '90s at companies like Wired and Netscape. His poetry and fiction has been published or is forthcoming in Spork, Monkeybicycle, Diagram, and Eclectica. He's now teaching in Istanbul.




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