High Adhesion

The boss said "not this time" with a smile

so I walked past the lobby and out for a mile.

My heels hit the pavement, a sharp, steady beat

until something grabbed hold of the sole of my feet.

A wad of bright pink, smelling like fake fruit,

clinging to leather and the hem of my suit.

I stood by the gutter and scraped at the grime

losing my temper and losing my time.

It stretched like a bridge, a sticky, thin rope

holding onto the concrete as well as my hope.

People walked past while I picked at the mess,

straightening the pleats of my cheap, ironed dress.