Chalk talks and board meetings,
round the clock work never done.
That 9 to 5 waltz by the numbers
just like a barrel of a loaded gun.
A quarter glass of milk on the run.
Trips to Las Vegas meant everything
and nothing at the same exact time.
Who was she to rule the world ornately?
was the loneliness worth every dime?
A half cup of tea--a third of a lime.
That new briefcase holds her trickery,
the device which hefts people's souls.
What souls? the ones without aspirations
and moral depredations, she controls.
A three quarter bagel as she strolls.
The day ends as they would exclaim,
"Always be closing!" never once discrete.
Everything in order except her thoughts,
business first like unmovable concrete.
A full days work placed at her feet,
the only part of her life--compl...