Like the second grade boyfriend left behind
on the Brooklyn playgrounds of 92
I Quit You

Like the card, broken and bent
with no limit left to be spent
I decline the opportunity to continue punching your clock

They said, “these boots were made for walking”
I asked the sales girl, “how fast will they let me run?”
She let me test them before I realized…
my mind has already gone, the body is the easy part
besides these four point fives look better in a slow………purposeful……strut

Like the attorney who no longer buys your defense
I will not be able to represent your intentions from this point forward

Like she who has been slapped by the hands of the unrighteous man
I must backhand you with this letter of resignation

I bear you no ill will but today
I am like Serena after one more bad call
teeth gritted, fist clenched, prepared to cross the line of good intent
instead I will take my ball and go home

Like the thief caught with product in hand
I waive my rights
to sit behind the desk that created additional weight on my chest

Like a realtor exhaling at the closing
I hand over the keys and relinquish my desire to do anything but
collect my last check

They say “another day another dollar” and “pennies make cents”
I say “the value of time spent making those dollars has been misstated”
as I watch the inflation of your ego override the good sense necessary for leadership.

Unlike a congressional witness
I refuse to plead the fifth; therefore,
I humbly submit to you that


©2010 Breeze


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