Chens with benefits

He shovels cashew chicken into his mouth
His half empty cup of tea, cold
Worse than the lukewarm hot and sour soup
Man, that’s a lot of things to be
This was one of the lukewarm hot and sour perks
Of nine-to-five underpaid ho-hum office work
He, his two peers, his boss and boss’s spouse
An oriental lunch!
A prelude to
Another afternoon
In that quiet little cubicle
Remembering complaints about the
Piss-poor job market and how
Piss-poor is treated him for a few months
Now being here
Eating the feasts of dead Chinese generals
What a world.
Then it was guilt
No it’s just fucking boredom
As a child he couldn’t have foreseen
Life ending in his twenties
Then it was playing with trains
Now it’s chasing them
His forehead left oil on the frozen
Car window while he thumbed at the tiny
Fortune in his palm
“Nothings perfect,” it read
“No,” he thought
“Nothing ‘cept imperfection”
Yours,
Tru Lee