Best Cubicles Poems

At 
gray fabric offices,
cubicles divide us—
turn us into
refuges
with mock privacy,
as overheard conversations
drip from lips
endlessly smacking.

Sometimes
it seems insanity
squared—
nothingness 
randomly speaking
in tongues
to cubicles
with no one there.

We 
thumb tack
individuality
loosely
to coarse fabrics—
arms stretched out
from wall to wall,
as mouths open
to mirrored
silences 
we never 
scream....

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OR
What I Learned on the Web Today

The whorehouse of the future
At least in Zurich’s mind
Is a bunch of car park cubicles
For hookers and their kind
This series of sex-box places
Where clients will drive into
Are on a 1st come-1st served basis
That will keep them from your view
	Town...

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