A Tribute to Lorelai

I bet you thought she didn’t exist,
Laura’s nemesis.
I swear, I’ve met her.
I’ve stared her in the eye,
And she is death.

She spins a careful web.
She is never wrong.
Artful, she lures the victim.
Graceful, she quaffs his breath.

He knows not how nor why.
The more he fights, the worse his bind.
He is a weeping husk.

This is, to her, normality.
Life is a myth.
Real is conformance and pow’r.

Yet I pray Mia will take me in,
That I might live again.

I wrote this poem in the midst of a bad job, a dysfunctional employer-employee relationship. Everyone says they appreciate ingenuity, initiative, and individual personality— Who wouldn’t? But in practice, some companies are just plain intolerant toward their employees. Dress used to be the bugaboo of the corporate world. Now it’s operational conformance: You will not improve the process. You may be yourself, but you will fit in. Or else you will leave. I left, to work at a tiny, fast-paced company, the entire staff of which could fit into a large conference room. And I’m motivated and happy again. -TimK