Fuck All Ya’ll

Fuck you to construction this morning
and the traffic on the way to work.
Fuck you to the breakfast place
which forgot my order.
It’s not like I haven’t been there most days
the last three fucking years.
Who doesn’t love cream cheese
sprayed over their fucking well done hash browns?
Fucking everyone fucking doesn’t,
that’s who.

Fuck you to the meeting
that couldn’t start without me
even though I wasn’t presenting today
so that when I slunk in at
whenever the fuck time I eventually slunk in
everybody stared at me
settling into my spot
before we could get down to the business
of whatever it is the subject of the meeting was about.
I should’ve taken better notes.
Fuck you to Sam next to me
who also should’ve taken better notes.

Fuck you to whomever opted to use the toilets
for urinals all fucking morning
so that whenever I went,
I had to go through a fucking cleaning project
so as to avoid the dreaded Wet Ass.
There are like three urinals just adjacent, fuckers.
…Fucking use them!

Fuck you to the breakfast place
for getting my lunch order wrong.

Fuck you to my suitemates
for calling my political jokes “inappropriate”
and my religious jokes “a little edgy”
and that sexy joke “fucking racist.”
Fuck you to HR for that mandatory sit down taking an hour
at the end of the day.

Fuck you to the noodles
in the soup that slurped all up in my face
and the shirt that proved to be one day
out of the store
and one day into the crap pile.
Fuck you to the exercise regimen,
which, the less said about, the better.
Fuck you to the sex life, which, same.

Fuck you to the weather
and the shortening days
and my greying hair
and plants that keep dying on me.
Fuck you to broken contracts
and women that won’t talk to me
and men that won’t talk to me
and words that won’t come out of my head
and onto the page
and… and thank you for listening.

Oh, fuck you.

About Jonathan Berger

I used to write quite a bit more.
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