Out of the office

That time at a desk
seems so necessary for people
who don't know me
to help them
think they do.

I'm learning not to need the desk
as a prop.

Sometimes I do.

Other times
in this new time

there are no have to things.

Life is easier for people we don't know
when told with rules
and lines
and formulas that equal,
and how we fit in them,
not rolled out like a meadow
with clouds shading
and sun revealing.

What do You Do questions
are easier
for everyone,
when we answer
with the firmness
of a spreadsheet.
I do this.
I do those things.
I am important because you can define me
and I have a place to go,
even if you have never heard of where I worked
or couldn't care less about the fact that I work there.
Oh! you say.
Oh, you smile with relief
that you can understand,
as can I.
It makes us both feel better.


Oh,
they say when I say I've left my desk.
Is that a good thing?
Yes, it's good.
But I do go to bed
worried about the supposed to part,
whatever that is.
Should is what guides a day.
Don't know is what I'm left with,
and it's frightening,
and it's wonderful .

In my office
my coworkers and I stared at computer screens.
Like the who dunnit was going to be revealed
at the very moment we'd look up.

And each morning,
it was how was your night? What did you do?
I don't remember, we always said, or it was good.
And now
sometimes I don't remember and it was good
and I tell no one.

But I have a friend who said she gets defensive
in this unoffice life
when her husband asks her at the end of the day
what did you do?
as if accusing her,
when really he's just interested.
Do we make things up? Do we say we read on the sofa
for three hours
and it wasn't even snowing or raining out?
And we made popcorn
and we read through old college yearbooks
and we wrote a letter to a friend
on stationery and mailed it in the real mail?
Or do we say
I did the taxes
and then I put on a new roof
and learned chemical engineering
and started a corporation
and found a job
with benefits?

What will make me sleep through every night
reminded of the reward
of this time,
remembering that the day is mine,
that life is a blink,
and that sitting with the grateful dog
on the wet grass and
pulling up new dandelions by hand is
what is
here
to do?