Drones
a Poem by Raquel Swann
There is a window behind my cubicle
with a pretty view
of a vast world with limitless oppotunities
Click-clack-click-clack
are the sounds of us drones typing
documents and strategies
for those who sought out such opportunites
and siezed them through the vines of family trees
or hard work, does it matter?
Click-clack-click-clack
Time is a snail treking hundreds of yards
in search of water, in this place
A ray of sunlight peaks in through the blinds
and I wonder how many of these reports
and web searches I conduct are in vain
Click-clack-click-clack
If I sit here long enough
will I become a permanant fixture?
Five o’clock no longer excites me
Nor does eight, or nine, or ten
by eleven I’m sleeping dreaming
of brighter days, when I can listen
to waves crash upon shores
or roaring engines high above the clouds
Click-clack-click-clack
I will not succumb to this life
of birthday pleasentries and
false cakes purchased so that
others can think they care about us
Click-clack-click-clack
Computer histories and phone calls
tracked and examined, meant to
rate our performance as drones
Do me a favor and kill me…
No, better yet – show me you truly love me
and appreciate me
the only way I can reach my “unlimited potential”
is to fire me
It would be my honor
Click-clack-click-clack
