Have you ever walked through an empty office on a weekend afternoon?
It much reminds me of the night sky, partially illuminated by the moon.
Though it’s 1:00 o’clock it does not feel like the middle of the day,
Such as a man pleading the fifth it’s got nothing, at all, to say.
Come Monday at 1:00 o’clock though things will certainly change,
And all the silence then would be rather strange.
Workers will fill the cubicles, type on computers, use the copy machines, and make calls.
Drawings will be made of building, houses, and maybe even some malls.
All a part of the typical weekly nine to five
Much like a man being resuscitated with a defibrillator, the office will come alive.
Thinking of things from the office’s perspective, though:
Does it not have feelings too?
Are the workers viewed as friend or foe?
How many tenants has it been through?
Being that I am alone in the office I ask such questions aloud.
Getting no answer in return, perhaps it is just too proud.
Instead of sharing the times it has been prodded, moved around, and used
It would rather continue to enjoy its day off and not become confused.
Because whom, after all, had ever asked how it felt?
Taken the time to think about its place in this world?
Considered the hand that it was dealt?
Sitting at a desk chair, suddenly, the office decides to speak to me
Sharing the story of its existence and how it came to be.
Telling of the companies and workers that have since come and gone,
And all the many days it’s stood in place from dusk until dawn.
As the story concluded the office left me with one final word:
Though many people have walked my floors,
Used my rooms,
And come in and out of my doors,
None have ever contemplated my existence, until you.
So thanks for taking the time to consider me for a few,
Cause offices, in fact, have feelings too.
Most everyone, however, would find such an idea absurd.