from a photo by Nancy Vaughn
Long have they skirmished;
this head, this heart.
He, with his education,
with his reasoning,
with his penthouse suite
with windows on everything
(but those offices below.)
He with his finger on the pulse.
And beneath,
he not of the expected constancy,
but of the hot blood;
he who races that pulse
without orders from above,
he who works double-time
in mid-February
while the CEO naps;
he who loves mergers.
- Ralph Murre
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