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Where To Go Poem

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Where To Go

                                                                                                        by Joan Pond

How many corporate Rest Rooms must I endure?
Questioning myself;
examining a face in the mirror.
Looking forlorn and asking,
what am I doing here?
I washed my hands,
not wanting to return to my cubby hole.
Surrounded by white tile,
I realized
the devil hadn’t taken my soul.
I’d given it willingly to these companies.
Mutatis, mutandis,
going to and fro.
It was a mutual agreement,
yet I’m forlorn;
not knowing where to go.



                                                     Copyright © 1999 by Joan Pond, All rights reserved

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