My reality is that of domesticated people
on their well masticated lunches
who have every right to remain silent
in between morsels heated up in the microwave oven
and yet they don’t
they keep on thinking
their minds talk with the speed of their fingers
abusing the keyboards while doing reports
Today we’ve been good. We behaved and we obeyed.
We cheated and we lied. We reached our targets.
Every pedestrian agent has a way of convincing
they are doing a great job
every day of their lives.
You can tell by the way they cross the street
their briefcases swaying gently
in their wedding ring adorned hands
with which they open up the mail
and touch the shoulder of a freshly-cooked-meal
small-kids smelling housewife.
The boulevard is broad
every corner is an option
We cross the street when they say Walk,
my briefcase swaying gently in my hand.