I looked at Pratchett’s description
of boredom attentively, the way
carpet stuffing fills the head and
the mind turns to mush – it is
happening to me
I am stuck with a job to do and
La Traviata on headphones
in my ears, my head stuffed full
of cotton wool, everything seems
such a waste of the beautiful life
coursing in my veins
I want to be outside feasting
my eyes on emerald sheen
of plants after rain, small
white flowers of jasmine,
purple remnants of an
October jacaranda season
but I must remain in my seat
create the impression of reading
boring documents and relaying
their content in Victorian English
in the South African emulation
of UK spelling checkers
even my imagination cannot help me
escape, I am leaving right now,
I am going to run a while before
continuing my charade!
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