Op-Ed

Let us go then, you and I
Wistful evening spread out against the sky
A patient etherized at my desk;
Let us go, through office halls
Motivational art adorns eggshell walls
To meeting rooms rendered like cheap hotels
Neutral tones to avoid feet on shells
Essential debate in tedious argument
Of insidious intent
To lead you to an overwhelming question …
Oh, I dare you to ask “What’s the point?”
Let us go, a middle manager to anoint.

On the chart they come and go
Powerpoints of Michelangelo

And indeed there will be time
For the yellow notes that stick to the screens
And the nudging ping of email machines
There will be time, there will be time.
To prep your deck, prep your face
For face to face, for meet and greet
There will be time to murder and create
Proposals, requirements, fly in business plans
Pats on back and pumps of hands;
Time for you and time for me
And time yet for a hundred indecisions
And for a hundred visions and revisions
Before the cooler calls for chats Re: TV.

At the reception, girls come and go
Talking of Michael and Angelo

And indeed there will be time
To wonder, “Do I care?” and “Do I care?”
The outlook is full and free time is rare
RSI dictates ergonomic chair
(They will say: “He has no can do.”)
But can do has lost its command of you
You who did for a year or two
Before The Street saw you through
Do I dare
Disturb the universe
For a minute there was a time
Impulsive words with no reverse.

Bulleted campaigns, I’ve known them all, known them all
Presented them evenings, mornings, afternoons
A life of measured milestones and plastic coffee spoons
I know projects dying with a dying fall
Executive edicts from a farther room
So how should I presume?

And I have known the eyes already, known them all
The eyes that fix you in a formulated phrase
And when I am formulated, org’d on a chart
When I’m a dotted line projected on a wall
Then how should I depart
To spit out all the butt-ends of my days and ways
And how should I presume?

The afternoon into evening deadline is near
She works with smooth, ring-less fingers
Thoughts of dalliance malingers
Stock room rendezvous incites lust and fear
Should I, later, expose my vices
Have the strength to force the moment to its crisis?
But though I have wept and fasted, fantasized and prayed
Though she may lay taut across a conference table
I am no prophet, it is more than I am able.
I have seen my mortgage, marriage and career flicker
I have seen the corporate footman hold my check and snicker
and, in short, I was afraid.

And would it have been worth it after all?
Thirty year career and this is it
Knee deep in memorandum corporate bullshit
Would it have been worthwhile
To have bitten the feeding hand with a smile?
To have squeezed that universe into a ball
To roll it towards some overwhelming question,
To say “I am Lazarus, come from the dead,
Come back to tell you all, I shall tell you all”
There’s more out there, you’ve been misled
You should say, this is not life at all
That is not it, at all

Grow old and grow bold
Wear the bottom of your trousers rolled
Place your integrity out of reach
Wear white flannel trousers and walk upon the beach
Go find the mermaids singing each to each.

With great respect this mash-up was brought to you by T.S. Eliot and his poem ‘The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock‘.

DaveTheGrinch is DaveTheGrinch doesn't like Christmas - that's why he's a grinch. He's also a grinch because unless he does something really quickly his world might crumble under the pressure of all the 'nice' people in it.
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