In our maximum office
            our cube walls are toffee.
We’re too new for vacation,
            we do get free coffee.

We do get some sunlight,
            we don’t get a raise,
we get in our workouts
            by running our maze,

where the cheese is a printout,
            the cheese is a meeting,
the cheese is an email
            that everyone’s reading.

In the cube by the rear door
            hangs a sign “Jesus Saves,”
but where in the Gospels
            does He mention wage slaves?

If we render to Caesar,
            all that is Caesar’s
we’ll be fully vested,
            but we’ll all be old geezers.

Kerouac road the rails,
            criss-crossed the land.
We just meekly commute
            back and forth to Cubeland.