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.