Thursday, June 28, 2007

The Colleague

You call me over to your desk, and say "Dude, you gotta see this."
My mind nested deep in a spread-sheet
it lives with formulas links
throbs with numbers
calculating calculations of calculations
A lurid abstraction of intergers, gorgeous beyond the products
whose revenues and costs
it weighs and measures
I pop from my absorption and come to you
Your screen displays a man
getting hit
in the nuts
with a cricket bat
Indians, you say. They love cricket

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