Glass Ceiling's Poem by James McLain

Essential are our jobs I need my made up face to show.
And behind the weak partition, walks a boss
that more than knows.
Whom expects what he can't give and knows we can.
And my shame is daily peaking as the distance grows.
I had dreams of working hard and looking up.
Business woman trying, lying grey eyes soaking
more than air through the skylight my glass ceiling
lying white clouds, train the younger girls with long blond hair.
You rest on our firm asses our full lips are wraped around
to get and stay a head of disappointing checks.
The mid day heat is why the poor the U.S. the unbeloved they seek.
Too soon the breakfast nook the green trolley-bus,
goes past so much for dreams.