They put a plasma screen up at work.
In the corner. On the carpeted wall.
One hundred days ‘til product launch!
like an a-bomb
& we’ll never have to worry again,
after.

It counts down, red on white
like a butcher’s apron, the silent
seconds slip in the periphery,
bees abuzz in the hive
making sweet, terrible honey
that will make some beekeeper
so rich he’ll forget about flowers.

It’s fun to make up words, like
Leverage, Buy-in, Ideation,
Drive-the-project, Do More
With Less. Emotional Leakage.
It’s what you do
when you want to start a club.
No Jews or Blacks allowed.

The clock has stopped ticking.
We all still grind our thumbs
into plastic.
We try to remember
what good honey
tastes like,
where flowers grow.