Architectural Errors

The manager is talking about the horizon

while I am staring at a coffee ring

on my quarterly performance review.

The word 'synergy' tastes like

aluminum foil on a bad filling.

I take a ballpoint pen and start a sketch

in the bottom corner of the page.

Four square walls, a door with no knob,

and a roof that hovers an inch too high,

never quite touching the frame below.

It’s an intentional gap, a flaw by design,

a place for the cold rain to come in

and wash the beige carpet away.

I’m not drawing a home or a future.

I’m drawing a place where no one can stay.