Poetry like

A corporate exodus 

The young scrambled, refusing to leave
until the 
System shut down. Five, four, three, two . . . Even

Then some refused exit (not on principle but
Bewilderment), shutting themselves in,

Typing one last thing. Others wandered, imminent,
Displaced, seeking water, hot or cold, all 

Gone, seeking basics, disconnected, 
carted, done.
Trying to pull back tides in scorn, most the things 

They need to flick scan documents, change ideas,
Bind some people, left only with their heads

In place, sidestepping exodus til five
at least.
Adults don’t leave or stay, they disappear

And reappear. They know it’s a pretense, a
Rarity. I’m lost those last. Sitting as

I’d never sat before. Down to a single 
Paper, blank. I graffitied the walls shyly in 

Pale pink permanent marker before leaving one
Last time.


I write abecedarian sequences

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