a room full of bureaucrats
faces glowing from pastel
shades of computer screens
desks cluttered with stacks
of very important papers
vital statistics filling
appropriate boxes on forms
replicated in pixels
apprehension fills the waiting
room as numbers are called
as problems are presented
and few solutions occur
without further stressful
inquiry as new searches
for supporting documents
send many home again
number fifty-three is called
i rise and find my own
bureaucrat a smiling
young man who listens
patiently and kindly without
condescension or disdain
and with a few taps on his
keyboard erases my dilemma
so i salute this kind young man
who pushed aside the common lie
that bureaucrats have some evil plan
when they’re just as human as you and i
