Today in a swivel chair,
I spun myself half to death.
Boredom took the other half shortly thereafter.
At lunch we held a memorial
with potato chips.
Everyone was there.
We sat around,
sometimes opening the fridge
until it was time to go back to work.
I played with my fidget cube,
then tried to solve one of those triangular wooden peg-board puzzles,
the ones where you start with twenty wooden miniature golf tees
and the goal is to end up with just one by making a series of jumps,
one over the other,
like hopscotch or solo checkers.
I did not solve it; I did not want to.
I just wanted something on which to fixate,
obsession codified in green pegs,
where failing was sublime,
like waking up from the same dream over and over,
replacing peg after peg
until everything’s back to how it was.
I’m a believer in crossword puzzles
because you start off speechless
then learn how to communicate
one word at a time
until the puzzle is completed,
and that set of three-to-twelve-letter words
is all you know
and even that is too many choices.