AGM

Tomorrow is the day – the day I dread.
The first of March.  Declare the dividend.
I hate a scene but I, by nature’s quirk,
endure the drama, seated on the stage.

I never met a shareholder who said
‘I know you are the CEO. My friend,
we really do appreciate your work.’
Hostility is not so hard to gauge.

Today’s the day it all comes to a head.
A thousand profit-sniffers will attend.
Their eyes will flay me, glaring from the murk,
and though I do my damnedest to assuage

the fury, ‘carbon footprint’s tread’ –
it will not help me.  Why do I pretend?
They want more money.  Explanations irk.
Their unearned income is the war they wage.

Their eyes and exit signs pulsating red,
No Confidence the motion that they’ve penned,
malicious in the darkness where they lurk,
creators (or the symbols?) of our age.

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