the guys i work with
don’t got time for
philosophy
because they own pagers
and not watches
they got problems
they got girlfriends
they got no money and
nowhere to go
bored with plain jane
they make out with suzie wong
in cheenatown, the heart of
obiang, the yellow ghetto
streaked redorange hair
drinking blue cocktails at club 97
bar-coded and screened
at the nearest NPP: licensed
to thrill to fill their
otherwise fettered lives and
boast of their adventures
on monday to the likes of
me,
who spent the weekend
watching t.v.
the guys i work with
don’t got time for
philosophy