Dear Me

So in 37 years
you're gonna look back at this moment
with your morbid sense of humor
and wonder....

if you made the right choice
by pulling the hose
out of the tailpipe, today
because you forgot to fill the gas tank.

You're going to supervise
three chemistry laboratories
and have to get seven new analyzers
up and running
in a year's time
(while keeping all the old ones going, of course
and not to mention
all the "what the f--k" stuff that comes with management)

And that thought will creep in
and the sarcastic smile will cross your lips.
But you really won't go there again.
(though a tiny whiff of carbon monoxide
might be nice
just to be able to catch a quick catnap
between dumpster fires at work)

You will have survived in the workplace, the following:
The Great White Harpy
(who gets pissed that she can't rattle you
because of the enigma, you are)

The Jealous Queen Bee Bitch
(who will always be the fat girl
in her own mind, no matter
how much weight she loses)

The Drunk, Groping Pig
(who corners you with his bloodshot eyes
before he corners you, for real in the supply closet)

and all The Others
who couldn't cut it
and hated you for their own shortcomings.

It's all good.
You'll survive many other things too.
It all shall pass.
And you'll give a set of balls
to all who will follow after you're gone.