A Filter

For the third time today the boss refers to her as “hon” and she chooses
to stop the meeting for a sec to ask him to quit it.

A teacher recognizes the introverts are passing tests, though
not participating. Stops class clowns long enough to ask.

Sekou Sundiata must type his name over again to prevent being
seiko sundial. Others are onto the next line.

It’s a race. To the top. To the bottom. To the suburbs.
To the watch and the view and to automatically rolling down your window.

It’s an obstacle course and every peg is a filter meant
to slow some down, the non-conforming, non-typical, non-hackers.

It doesn’t have to be. We choose it. So it is.



A day is not done, until it's filled with words.

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