Cerebral Contents:

Update for 05.13.08:

Male Model by Phil Doran

Set to Replay by Willie Smith

Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Tree by G. David Schwartz

05.05.08:

Disintegration by Don Hucks

Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord

Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse

Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi

04.29.08:

Lookalikes by Phil Doran

Dinner by Brandi Wells

The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox

Death by Onions by Michael Frissore

04.21.08:

Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser

Identity Theft by George Anderson

The Datists by Adam Engel

A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde

04.14.08:

Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem

California by Caroline Imreibe

Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson

04.07.08:

The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch

Slideshow by Miles J. Bell

Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen

Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin

03.24.08:

The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix

Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor

Far Away by Ashok Niyogi

Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer

03.17.08:

The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy

Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley

Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson

Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney

03.10.08:

Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson

I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson

Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse

The Avian Flu Paved the Way for My Promotion

by Joshua C. Clark

In the year Two Thousand
Double-oh-six
I played in the job market
solely for kicks.

Proofreader, secretary,
law clerk and banker,
data entry, coffee shop,
temp agency wanker.

I cared not a whit,
surfing offers like oceans,
not giving a damn
for layoffs or promotions.

Then a strange thing occurred,
in that bizarre spring
when my boss kicked the bucket,
full of K.F.C. wings.

"The Bird Flu!" they cried,
"Has mutated to man!
Eat only of cow,
pork, fish and lamb!"

Fowl slaughtered by the millions,
in mad quarantine,
were nothing compared to the
workplace where I'd been

for only two months!
But down went my boss;
and his boss above him,
H.R. at a loss!

"We know you're a temp,
but see our position,
your Excel sheets are nice,
which helps our decision."

Supervisor, then manager,
soon did arrive,
not because of my skills,
but because I was alive.

The scope of that Plague
was evil and strange,
though my salary soon hit
the six-figure range.

C.E.O. by Christmas!
At age twenty-six!
Top executives dropping
like dried-out old sticks!

And the offers kept coming
from investors with stock,
"Help us stay in the market
Your B.A.'s all we've got!"

In one year pandemic
changed the state of the nation
with good 'ol boys croaking
from respiratory inflammation.

I could own the place if I liked,
but it's a fool's game, I tell you,
chasing fistfulls of dollars
when the virus could get you.

Millions on a plate
were offered to me,
but I've made enough dough,
now I'll move to Hawaii.

______________________________________
Joshua C. Clark is the Editor-in-Chief and Webmaster of The Cerebral Catalyst. He lives in New York City. He has cool hair. E-mail him at editor@cerebralcatalyst.com.

posted 03.27.06.

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