“cubicle assumptions from mr. mondayn” a (working) poem

I can only assume
outside the birds are stalking their food,
squirrels are playing tag, flirting perhaps,
and millions of creepy crawlies
are doing something obscene in and around my yard.
 
I can only assume
the roofers roofing my neighbor’s roof
are holding back from hammering any louder,
the man from the water department
doesn’t mind holding up non-existent traffic
as he maintains all angles of the fire hydrant,
and the handful of husbands and house men
that decide to cut their lawns at the same
are admiring Spring’s first grassy fruits.
 
I can only assume
the majority of the neighborhood children
are busy at school, working on assignments
while at least half of their absent friends
are absent for legitimate reasons,
their parents are also hard at work
or possibly hardly working
possibly because they received a call
from the school about their absent child,
and the retired, unemployed,
sickly or vacationed,
reminiscing when they
used to be that absent child
or used to receive that call from the school.
 
I can only assume
because unlike Mr. Collins,
I do not have a window to see outside.
I’m boxed in my little office nook,
nestled under and around the stairs,
closed in by Japanese wall panels
decorated with bamboo silhouettes.
The light from the stained glass in front of me
paints my walls red, yellow and green,
while the window at the top of the stairs
only tells me if the sun is shining.
But I can still hear
the school buses and garbage trucks,
kids home from school with unfinished homework
claiming that they “did it on the bus,”
the endless constant bird-chatter or chirping,
and any other ambient noise
that isn’t masked by my radio.
That is, until I open my front door
to watch the sunset and pretend to regret
on the work I should have done today,
but have to make up tomorrow.

So let me know what you think… I can take criticism.