The B series

Okay, here's the tweet size poems about the B. No names here. Just let it suffice that this pain in the A at work was a yeasty poetry subject....until she left the company. Right now, it's out of sight, out of mind. And, that's a good thing.

The B Series


The B swaggers across the room,
looking from side to side
with a judging pursed-lip smile
on her face. Doesn’t she know
that will cause wrinkles?

With her ubiquitous Coach bag
slung over her shoulder,
her Daytimer and papers
tightly in her arms,
she stomps her 4-inch heels
down the stairs.

I wonder why men
gather and cow-tow.
She’s got something they want.
Certainly not her sweet demeanor.
Oh right
I’m a girl.
No way I’d understand.

The B is retiring
Only 51 more days to deal with
her demands, her haughtiness,
and her lack of appreciation
No I won’t miss her
when she’s gone.

Little lacey see-through tops
Showing lots of arm
rhinestones on her belts
And short skirts with flounce
Anything to detract
From her flat chest.

Today it was a white low-cut
clingy number
with enough sheering across the breasts
to give the impression
of something under there after all.

Why does she
walk through my room?
Certainly the hall is there
for a reason.
Perhaps she’s out for
human adoration
rather than mean blank walls.

Why was her smile so wide
when Joe announced a security breech?
Was she reveling in someone else’s mishaps
or just savoring her own daydream?

She doesn’t seem to notice
how her stomach sticks out.
She just keeps strutting,
swinging her hips, and clicking those
heels across the floor.

Now here’s a scary thought.
She retires on October 31,
just two more weeks from now.
A perfect witchy day for
transforming the B into a W.
BOO!

This is it. This is her last day.
Her replacement is here.
He communicates, he’s pleasant,
and he can do her job without a hitch.
All is good.

Work life without the B
is peaceful. We communicate
openly without fear
of her insulting retorts
and fake-y slimy smile.
Our smiles now are real.