Kick back with a scotch bonnet

Endless hassle,
a gavel pounds against my brain.
Computers are whining, printers are drumming
the boss must have a hole in his head.
Back stabbing remarks heard behind doors,
just once let me get even.
He wants my ass, I know how to play,
so maybe today I should.
Let him think he’s got lucky, a grin that seduces
until he is eating out of my hand.
Bondage the game, with him in chains
wearing a Scotch bonnet on his wee head
as I kick back and relax
watching him sweat.

© Jem Farmer 2008, all rights reserved.