soundtrack

there’s no soundtrack when you close the door to your office,
when the fluorescent lamp stops buzzing above
when you only notice that it had been buzzing all day
when it finally stops, when it shuts down
along with the copier and the computers
when sunset begins to take over the room
and you’re happy to at least go home without needing headlights

just glad that you have an office with a door, with your own key,
with your own little refrigerator in the corner
and enough footspace to complete an afterlunch nap

there’s no soundtrack to your forty years of work
your 401k, your spotless attendance record,
the fact that you are the one that your officemates
are least likely to kill

there’s no soundtrack when you loosen your twenty-year old tie
while pulling out of your parking space, carefully enough
not to disturb too much of the loose gravel under the tires
as you drive away

as you drive up and into the unfinished garage
as you set your keys on the cluttered counter
as you take your shoes off, right foot first
as you sit in your favorite ugly couch
as you hear your family sounds
as you almost fall asleep
as you hear the television

with the actor going home after a hard day’s work
with the soundtrack following.