The Boss Runs Around Wringing Her Hands Poem by Margaret Alice

The Boss stomped in here – Hurr, harr,
lips hanging down in quiet bitterness -
Where is your list, hurr harr, consolidate
with everyone else – Where is your
production sheet grrrr - I haven’t
compiled it yet – Stop everything else
and do it IMMEDIATELY Aarrgghhh!

Roaring like a lion, she takes to the
passage again, stomping down in the
anger of the self-righteous – glorying
in her power to terrorize the unwary;
but the Nile-Crocodile is a stoic-epicurean
who enjoys the sadism of torturing the
bureaucratic systems of the efficient

Overstraining minds and systems until
something cracks somewhere, a nerve
snaps; and the Boss runs around wringing
her hands and crying hysterically…