Tap, Tap, Tap

by Quint McGuinley

TAP, tap, tap go my fingers on the keyboard
as I recline back in my less than accomodating chair,
unawares of the prying eyes that dart inside my cubicle.
Yes, that's right, I said cubicle.
There's nothing like a nice heaping bowl
of data entry for this hungry mind.
And to think I once proclaimed
that I would never settle for being cooped up like a drone.
Imagine what I would have missed!
My fingers pummel away with intensity,
not unlike Subway's Jared as his post chubby form power walks
the last stretch on his voyage for the latest ham and cheese special.
After all, my sweat is little price to pay
for such a competitive salary of $20 thousand dollars a year.
Long live the stagnant economy!

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