When Not Present

I don’t want to do anything—
at most I pretend. Yeah, blah blah blah
until it’s time to go home. Then
bleh until I sleep. And then nothing,
and then the alarm. Then laying on the bed,
forcing myself not to call in day-after-day until I quit
or am fired or, to be honest, couldn’t really care—
anything could happen to me. The way it seems to go.

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