Where am I, you might be asking?
I am in a temporary place.
It’s really pretty. I have a glass box–well glass on two sides, that I sit inside for 8 hours. I type things on letterhead. I make coffee and tea.
I am in T-E-M-P land. It’s nice here.
This particular version of Templand is populated with the nicest ever of computer guys. They still work in the big CITY so, they are all wearing their tie and shirt uniforms. I am still just a secretary, so I sit with other secretaries at lunch. We talk about Madonna and her Malawian baby, and shopping, and reality TV.
I wonder if they are busier than I am.
Then I get those emails, the Q&As: tell me all about you: If you were a color, what color would you be? I don’t think they are all that busy either.
Here’s my Templand poem:
Templand is nice and quiet and really very clean.
It’s mostly beige and file-cabinet grey.
The people here are never mean.
I like it here, but I don’t want to stay.
