Shayla, this one's for you

On this dreary day:

Even the yellow leaves on my office plant give up,
And plunge to their untimely death on my carpet,
Making me look like a careless murderer.

The Toronto hydro generator hums its last breath,
And shuts off power to the entire business city block,
Whispering it’s last fuck you to the elite for making it work so hard.

My co-workers huddle into my office lacking any feelings of nostalgia over the unusual event. The only excitement they voice is for having pressed save on their computers. I suggest we hold hands and sing kumbaya but they lazily yawn and role their eyes at me. A silly girl dismissed.

My last phone call is wasted when Teo calls to complain about her ungrateful boss who is making her conduct banking during her lunch hour-- any sense of commonality is lost between us as the sound of her voice is drowned against a loud announcement: “The police have been called. Please leave the bank immediately”. An employee accidently tripped over the alarm!

I stand tall on the furnace in my office in my high heeled boots,
And look out at the city underneath me from the floor to ceiling glass windows,
I spread my arms and contemplate what it would feel like to fly before I hit the concrete.

I pause,
I smile and
I thank God.

Today is a dreary day,
but hey-
at least I’m not:

Sad enough to let go of my claws dug firmly into life,
Mad enough to quit just to screw them,
Tainted enough to waste unique opportunities,
Dumb enough to set off an alarm, or
Dull enough not to contemplate ways to fly.