On being a bomb in the belly of the beast

Ticking and clicking
my heart and my heals find a synch
that sinks even the most hopeful floating
boating bordering battle ship war fare
to give me more time
I tick tick tick toward the frontline
of Corporate America.

what does a woman
who is thrift store suit and smile by nature
and laugh like thunder
do in a world
where wit and wisdom in the form of mistakes past
are as outlawed as her naturally guffawed laughed?
And I ask … Can a zebra change her stripes?
I find myself camouflage in a sea of khaki: the colorless corporate jungle
we fumble at the feeding trough
tick tick ticking under our zebra hides
hiding from all we feel inside
looking like lions
to simply get a sip.

I tick

and shift / uncomfortably when my true self emerges
I see my reflection in the surface
and get nervous / to be discovered at the wrong end of the food chain
KNOWING both the zebra and the lion are the same ... in that they go where the water is.

I swallow this
every explosion from my fiber
and chameleon myself khaki
wandering in this lobby, like it is the belly of this beast
and every sense of self-awareness or inner peace

is replaced