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The Boss

Another sample from my book - Corporate Crap

The Boss

Worn-out shoes, rejection-blues –
she’d felt her share of pain,
her time in grade and dues she’d paid –
it seemed were all in vain.

And then she learned her luck had turned –
an offer came her way,
a late reply – an HR-guy
had read her resumé.

The long commute and crowded route
had put her way-behind,
to run astray her maiden-day
was not the way to shine.

Like hell on wheels – in hose and heels,
she crossed the parking lot,
her graceful sway and given way
to a less than graceful trot.

She hadn’t met her boss just yet –
he’d just returned from leave,
his wife – bereft, had finally left –
he needed time to grieve.

A balding man with tennis-tan
and gold on every limb,
his shirt confessed a hairy-chest –
his waist was hardly trim.

On his feet and quick to greet –
but thoughts began to show,
his Cheshire-grin and vibes he’d send
as eyes went head to toe.

The undertones would shake her bones –
she’d have to watch her back,
she knew of men the same as him
and how much class they lacked.

It seemed unfair her desk and chair
were placed outside his door,
it put her right within his sight
from eight ‘till after four.

His sights were set, he placed his bet
and mounted his assault,
and though she’d plea to leave her be –
he’d still refuse to halt.

The very thought of what he brought
would cause her skin to crawl,
a pompous king – and that’s the thing
she’d hated most of all.

As he grew bold and she grew cold,
his blithe-demeanor changed,
he went from smiles to cruel and vile –
she found herself estranged.

Her office-peers expressed their fears –
if things got out of hand
and left unchecked – his disrespect
would be too much to stand.

Was not the first they’d seen his thirst
imposed upon a hire,
the times-before, he’d tried to score –
invoking pangs of ire.

She took her hell to Personnel –
it came to sink or swim,
but every word of hers they heard –
would make it back to him.

The senior-staff would only laugh
at jokes he sent her way,
his daily rain of hurt and pain –
they seemed to find okay.

At home, she’d cry – the short supply
of jobs to entertain
would make her sad – the one she had
would be her ball and chain.

A rumor fueled by office-pool –
his wife was back at home,
the final stance, just one more chance –
or else he’d be alone.

A bad divorce was not the course
he wanted to pursue,
his fate bemoaned if all he owned
was split between the two.

Back at work, a chronic-jerk
continued his attacks,
the man was bound to wear her down
with snide, insulting cracks.

She knew by then, to make it end
she’d have to bend the rules,
to stop the crap, she’d lay a trap –
but first, she’d need some tools.

The corner nook was stacked with books –
she rearranged a few
to make some space where she could place
a camera – out of view.

The stage was set, she’d cast the net –
was time to make the kill,
she’d first secure the perfect lure –
an outfit meant to thrill.

After eight, while working late,
the boss would get his chance –
a sexy pose, suggestive clothes
and shot at brief romance.

His soul afire, he’d not inquire –
just why the change of heart,
his own would beat like a dog in heat –
emotions off the chart.

A hunter’s scope, a blatant grope
she didn’t try to flee –
was much to prove and every move
was captured on TV.

Before the czar had gone too far,
she doused his primal flame –
he said she’d pay, then scoffed away
like a kid who’d lost a game.

A brief affair, when half-way there –
he’d lost his chance to binge,
was quite displeased by spiteful tease –
he swore he’d get revenge.

An email came that changed the game –
a clip of lustful play,
his acts exposed with half his clothes –
a husband gone astray.

The tables-turned – he had to learn
how far the news had run,
his wife-deceived, would likely leave –
his half would turn to none.

With grave despair, he sat and stared –
he knew the one to blame,
she had enough to make things rough –
to prove the things she’d claim.

He’d introduce a flag of truce –
repair the damage done,
but she’d command the upper hand –
she held the smoking-gun.

On his desk, a note addressed
the list of her demands,
the penance paid – his lowly aid
would wield a bigger hand.

She’d keep in check his tend to wreck
the lives of those less strong
and oversee his tendency
to do his workers wrong.

He had no choice but heed her voice –
she’d always have his ear,
a cyber-blast would end him fast –
his wealth would disappear.

A vengeful-lass had kicked his ass –
she’d served his just-reward
and beat the louse because the mouse –
is mightier than the sword.

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