Nodding through the jargon

Blinking cursor stares back, blank and accusing.

I nod, yes, the word loops like a broken tape—

protocol, compliance, synergy—all noise,

a jumble tangled in my half-formed nod.

They speak in codes I’ve never cracked,

phrases built like glass houses I can’t enter.

I smile like I get it, heart clutching cold,

the shame simmering beneath polite nods.

Typing nothing, the silence hums,

a confession untyped, hovering,

but the meeting moves on, ruthless,

and I follow, pretending.