Just tell me what you want. That's what I'll do.
I've grown too tired and old now to resist.
Commit all your desires to one neat list
and put it in my hands. I won't say boo,
won't grumble or complain how life's unfair,
or weep about how far I've fallen short
of all I dreamed I'd be. I will report
on time, sit in my cubicle and stare
at this warm screen, and gladly do my bit.
I will not even turn around to see
where, just beyond the boss's office door,
a window offers one thin slice of tree
and sky, the only glimpse from where I sit.
I do not need to see that anymore.