take this

I see
how you see
us in meetings:

merchandise
to slip
off
the shelf.

Your eyes on the cameras
overhead
as
you turn
sideways
to hide
pilfering
your deposits into
your many pockets.

Monday, Henderson talked about
how to energize our sales team
providing sparkler specifics that you then waved
in front of the VP
leaving Henderson
with unlighted, unused punks.

Tuesday you stole from Kaufmann
as you sidled up on the left:
A clean lift. It was yours now.

Seems you have hollow
space, a filing cabinet
where a conscience should be;

you need the voltage
of other people’s thoughts
to keep the lights on.

Wednesday it was Carol’s property:
no yapping dogs to slow you up,
no electric fence, no motion detectors.

Today you took Rajesh’s half idea
and got the other half from Lance;
you took the mashup to our director
with none the wiser except me.

So tomorrow is my turn:
shadow becomes shill:
I will draw you in with an irresistible idea
floating,
gently,
up from the
middle of the
conference table
next to where
the speaker phone sits.

And you will take it —
not the speaker phone —
the trap —
without a second thought —
that extra effort required
to protect you from the dual-edge.

You will present it to the board next Tuesday,
and buried
in the subtext,
will be the hint
of exposure of
the skilled
juggling
acts of our VP
who
between going to jail
and setting you up
to take the fall
has an easy choice to make.

I won’t be there to watch.
I will be taking the day off.
Something I sometimes do
when I wish to spend
some quality time with your wife.

Zumwalt‘s poetry explores themes of alienation, shifting reality, and personal adaptation. You can find additional Zumwalt poems at zumpoems.com