Meanwhile, Back At The Office Poem by Seamus O' Brian

They bring their scowls to my office
Mouths weighed down at the corners
By the burdens of living affluently.
Trifling annoyances that delay
Their tee times or, worse, interfere
With the 3: 00 matinee.
The Rolls detailer home, sick with the flu.
The 16th green closed for the day
To accommodate CPR on the gardener
No one knows but jokingly calls Jose.
Trifling nuisances whose real detriment
Is to increase the furrowed wrinkles between
Their brows and the down-curving sinks
on the corners of their down-curving mouths.

Nothing a little Botox can't fix.
Whole Foods out of Pate?
Starbucks prolonged your latte?
Lear jet still on the fritz?
Shoot, nothing a little Botox can't fix.

You bring your hardened little,
Miserly hearts to my office
And grouse that I'm running
Twenty minutes behind schedule
To paste on your face the resemblance
Of a smile. Over in Haiti, meanwhile,
The legs of a little girl
On crutches are slowly rotting away
For lack of a treatment that costs
Less than the foam on your bloody frappe.

Nothing a little Botox can't fix.
Parts for your Maserati delayed?
The cream on your crepes is off just a shade?
The clasp on your Rolex—sometimes it sticks?
Shoot, nothing a little Botox can't fix.

You want me to take your tightly grim scowl
A little bit here; a little bit there
Voila! Now you have a pert little pout.
You ignorant snit, can't you figure it out?
Just smile a bit, while you're shopping about.

Nothing a little Botox can't fix.
If the plight of the world has got you down
If the rate of the Dow is making you frown
If they're all out of rooms, up at the Ritz,
Shoot, that's nothing a little Botox can't fix.

Not much a little Botox can't fix.