Clerical Necessity

Absent mindedly committing petty
crimes while standing in line behind
people so clouded the only breathing
they do is through their mouths.
The white tile floor is stained with
what looks like spilled coffee,
and behind the counter they
all worship the forward motion
of the minutes.
Tables and chairs, made from twisted
metal wires, take up space wrapped
in giant unclean windows.
People sit there and wait for their
phones to charge while they watch
the blood of the highway pass them by.
Ignoring their own thoughts as much
as possible, moving feeds up and down
with their thumbs.
The only thing they all want
is to finally be done.
To move on to something
they haven’t seen before,
crushing distance underfoot
in the pursuit of real progress.
Everyone payed with cash
and you could tell where they
were going by their cigarettes.