I'm walking in place. I'm falling down.
I see a beacon of light from the fax machine.
I forgot to shave my face.
I didn't comb my hair. My skin is pale,
but that's acceptable. I decorate my house like a cubicle
so I can feel more comfortable.
I shine my shoes until I can see my face.
I starch my shirt until it chafes the skin. In the morning I'll be ready to
force a day into a folder,
to represent myself with numbers,
to fabricate a smile. The fluorescent lights make us
wilt like the plants that cannot be trained to stay
alive! I fill my house with technology so I don't have
to talk, so I don't have to think.
Take a picture of my face.
Record the sound of my voice.
We do not last forever. We can be trained to perform anything.