“Fine” trying to fit in at the market, Nepal, in the chilli bin

The Guy You Work With by John Grey

What you want more than anything
is to grab the zebra in your jaws.
Forget the job. Forget teamwork.
Roll the nature film.
You’ve seen your neighbour
in his flashy car.

You’ve heard the whispers

of bonuses for others
delivered behind locked doors
like secret Mason handshakes.
You just need five minutes or so
of stalking in the dry Savannah grass.
And then one good sniff of your prey
nibbling weeds by a small lagoon.
What better than a slow creep
up behind that unknowing striped back
as deliberate as sharpening a pencil.
And then the pounce,
the real law of the jungle.
You with your fangs around it’s rump.
It braying in agonising terror
What you want from life
is to trot back to your den in triumph,
zebra intestines flapping in your jaw
like spagetti.
So they don’t pay you as much as the next guy.
You are at the point now
that if they paid you in zebras
that would be enough.