The Fuss

 
It’s complicated
the decisions he employed
painfully, daily
not one to sit and deliberate
he measures predicaments in bare foot quandary
navigating the boundaries
outside the confines of office grim and associates
weaving the under bore
through a web of peepholes
between chaos and excrement
from a company that dealt it
because they couldn’t give it


he’s had to make some tough decisions, lately
walking with purpose
bound four corners of the block
bouncing off the kerb like some rogue juggernaut
rolling over on impact with swift reflex
diverting his course to port
process repeated
systematically
the same four junctions
painfully, daily…
until he felt the tremor
in that instant the mulling expired
when milk turned sour in his mouth


from the other side of the crossroads
he looked back on the well-worn track, now
cut along the seam
he ponders the fuss
about the undermining of office grim and associates
and the intricacies of a well-executed sinkhole.