I hang up.
I transfer,
because I don’t need your thank-you’s
or your falsified pleasantries.
The day will come and go,
and so will all the
disembodied voices.
In 4 hour intervals.
twice per day.
That will make anyone
have some disdain.
Momentary breaks in the cacophony
help me keep my wits,
throw in an alarm and it’s
all to hell-with-it.
Numbing hands,
shallow breaths,
still I sit and hear your words slur,
your anger at systems,
your frustration with protocol.
Well too bad!
I’m frustrated with your protocol!
but still, I sit
and listen.
