Piggledy-wiggledy headers and footers float
across the fragile green window
as a screen saver fades, eroding gold.
All night, eyes gone dry with insomnia
do a double take at tasks in Outlook –
Perhaps they are cloning in hyperspace.
The tired employee leans into her keyboard – no room –
and the spellchecker pulls up “BOSS” out of nowhere.
Is the machine haunted or jinxed?
There’s no telling when electricity collides with the clock.
The door slams, another sticks open
and twenty five twenty five year olds converge
on a conference room.
The nurse says “The Dream Study’s underway”
and assistants go scrambling
with baselines and mice.
It’s all in a day’s work,
the empire of acronyms and misfired emails.
A radiant smile carries heavy weight,
diminishing down time and space.