That dream job...

It's The Administrators!

Steve Jones
mans the phones
slumped
with koala eyes
crumbs of disco biscuit
down the sides
of his brain.
Nods at Jane,
rubs his face
and starts to disappear.

Sandy Brown
is settling down
louche in an olive suit.
Bored,
sending figures
down yellow forms -
can do this in his sleep.
Sniffs at Jane
who says hello
and sits by Paul,
a bloke she knew from school.

Paul Tillings
form filling
berk in a Burton's suit.
Tedious.
Pressing a boil
on his neck,
snipping bites
from meat paste
on white bread,
making mistakes
for Jane to rearrange
and file.
All
    fucking
              day.

© Benedict Newbery 2009. All rights reserved.
(This poem was published in the delinquent issue 10)