Boxing Day
I’m an industrial athlete,
A miracle of logistic efficiency.
I climb the corporate ladder
Over a hundred times a day,
And all I ever see are boxes.
I have no idea what’s inside.
That’s above my pay grade.
My only concerns are
Hand trucks, forklifts, conveyer belts,
And boxes, boxes, boxes.
Every day is Boxing Day.
I race around the warehouse
Filling orders at a pace that leaves me feeling
Like Britain stripped of empire:
Small, insular, and not so great.
Soon I’ll be losing my job to a robot.
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