My Soap Opera Life Poem by Margaret Alice

Let go, recommends the ethereal source,
don’t row against the flow, let go, happily
drifting downstream - meaning a quarterly
report – what I did when and with whom,
why and wherefore – now it makes sense,
I have to present my life as a soap opera,
that’s why I hate writing reports!

I can’t watch soapies on TV, melodrama
and intrigue, but every six months I must
present my work life as a deplorable
soap box event; the officer, meaning me in
third person; translated official documents
that were duly checked, stamped, filed,
endorsed, e-mailed, faxed, and sent

She tore hair from her head – see the bald
spots; made a list of the lists that had
been made by her correspondents, then made
a list of all the lists in existence,
checked the Internet then went to bed with
a headache in her head, they might assume
in her neck if not stipulated my friends -
every moment of every minute of every
hour of every day

Was spent in the right way… she should be
locked up and the key thrown away…