Wrote a Poem About Fire and My Boss Saw

notebook open at the cafe. boss walked by. saw the line about the world burning. awkward small talk. poetry isn't hr friendly. kept writing anyway. twenty-four and the planet is loud. art is how i don't go mute. open mic sign-up list longer than my courage. read anyway because cowardice also ages you. one line landed and one line died and that ratio is acceptable. walked home with change in my pocket and a sentence worth keeping. notebook open on the bus and a stranger read over my shoulder without permission. i covered the page and felt territorial. poems are drafts of feelings not ready for audience. city rolled past like b-roll for a life i might describe later if the words cooperate.

Notebook open at the cafe. My boss walked by. Saw the line about the world burning. Awkward small talk.

Poetry is not HR friendly. I kept writing anyway.

Twenty-four and the planet is loud. Art is how I do not go mute.

The poem is not about the office. It is about smoke and futures. The overlap is accidental and total.

I will not read it at standup. I might read it at the open mic where people expect honesty.

I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.

The story continues in the body after the words stop. Shoulders lower, or they do not. Tomorrow arrives with its own list. I am still here, which is not nothing.

I do not need a moral. I need an honest next step. Sometimes that is rest. Sometimes it is showing up again before you feel ready.

Know someone who should read this?