TPQ OnLine
poetry by Joan Pond

	Where To Go 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.
	Nighthawk at Phillies I've lived the part and known too well the feeling of being seated in Hopper's "Office in a Small City." I've seen the flat blue sky, the red brick and sun-light blaring off Formica desks. I've spent a life-time in his office in a small city, but would rather have been "Nighthawk" at Phillies.
	Postcards from the Unemployed I've had it with this job, my last day was the finest of the year. I said goodbye to the boss and tossed aside cares and woes. Oh no, not enough quarters for the meter. Who cares? I'm no longer meting time, it's mine for awhile. I'll bask in this abyss; this abeyance. They do say ignorance is bliss and so here I shall remain. Dear Libby, I'm glad I'm not there. Sincerely, Your former employee.

Joan Pond is a computer nerd by vocation and a poet by avocation. She hopes someday the roles will be reversed. For now, her chapbook Scrapbook for the Soul is available from Dead End Street Publications . Joan can be contacted at Boodles1@aol.com.

Joan's poems Re-Birth and Cerulean Light were previously published in TPQ OnLine and can be viewed in our Archives.

Image of Edward Hopper's Office in a Small City provided courtesy of American Visions. Image of Edward Hopper's Nighthawks provided courtesy of WebMuseum.

Page posted 6/2/99