“Umm, if you are clocking in, you would need to use the other computer, yeah the one inside … THANK YOU!”don’t say thank you.
say EXCUSE ME or i beg your pardon, or simply F*CK YOU.
because that’s what you mean.
from your posture – to the very attitude that embodies your demeanor.
every trace of your fallen grace is SEEN.
you didn’t have to spell it out to me, Karen.
clearly you missed your morning errands.
that is until i showed up : first in line – to be shouted at with your raging tempered stance.
at first glance : i thought not to ever dare come over your way.
the only thing that prompted me was my usual computer to clock in, satellites within, went thin.
i analyzed in my thoughts whether i should even acknowledge the morning as good
cuz surely whatever i assumed – you calculated onto me as hood!
yes, i had to go there because i’m African!
me dreadlocks are long twisted and thick.
(verifying in you , all the variables for the all the ticks to click!).
meanwhile your fluorescent gaze is steadily amazed at my appearance.
in your mind: it would be better resolved for me, if i was a product on clearance!
a sale that is promised because the FINE LETTERING DECLARED IT EXACTLY THREE NINETY NINE!
did i miss the sign?
or am i deaf and blind?
it wouldn’t matter to you even if i had a disability- for, your inability to transcribe tranquility is at influx with your raging hostility!
& why is this?
because i dared to clock in on the computer next to you that you were not occupying?
you’d think – i’m lying !
but you said ‘THANK YOU’ so loudly – as if i were entrusting you with a gift.
and why would that ever be the case?
this was comparable to a flower being stolen from the soil and put into a ceramic vase.
for nothing else matters : even when the glass shatters into feathered tatters.
you wouldn’t dare to sweep up the pieces of what remains left behind.
preferring rather, to grin kind & (with passive aggressive tenacity) the mere caudacity!