The Perils of Being Chronically Late
A Humorous Poem
ACT I — The Alarm’s Call!
I awoke with a start, like a jolt through my heart
As though my mind instinctively knew
That if I didn’t obey, there’d be hell to pay
For I’ll have broken a cardinal rule.
I must not be late! No, NEVER, it states!
Not a moment to be spared,
That clock demands I hurry, with absolute fury
I sigh, “What will I wear?”
Confound that blasted thing!
My feet drag across the floor, and my eyes beg for more
Sleep, like they always do
Still, I dress myself, pull my bag off the shelf
And prepare my makeup anew
A quick bite to eat, and coffee so sweet
In a flash I am out the door
Sky overcast, I must move fast
For it’s now 7:34
I’m to be there by 8, or else I’m too late
The job is only 20 minutes away
Just wait — you’ll see, it’ll happen to me!
Everything will get in my way!
ACT II — Driving Madness
EGADS! Does no one know how to drive??
Oh, would you look at that! That guy’s a maniac!
Be a good sport, now, and let me over!
For I need that lane, and I must make it plain
If you don’t, I’ll shove you to the shoulder!
And what’s that up ahead — is that a bottleneck?
This line of traffic stretches back for miles!
Good grief, what a disaster! If only people would master
How to drive properly, instead of getting me riled!
Now, I don’t mean to be horrid, just that if they sorted
Themselves out in timely fashion
I wouldn’t be flipping out and having to shout
Things would be better — just imagine!
Oh me, oh my, would you look at the time?
It’s now 7:45!
If this line doesn’t move, I’m forever screwed
My means of living will be compromised!
Traffic is at a crawl, people have hardly moved at all
My morning deadline draws near
As my forehead grows wet, all covered in sweat
The worst I begin to fear…
It’s 7:52, and traffic’s not improved
Will I be stuck on the road all day?
I’d much rather be home, free to roam
“Anything’s better than this,” I say!
At last, we are moving! Instead of sitting here stewing
Just 5 minutes to go
I hope with all my might I hit every green light
It’s gonna be tight — oh no!
Act III — The Final Stretch
I pull into the parking lot, and find a lucky spot
Close enough to the entrance
Grabbing my stuff, I hurry in a huff
Trying to minimize this mess
Because of that endless line, I now have to hide
Myself as to my cubicle I sneak
Avoiding my boss so my job won’t be lost
And absolutely no one will have to freak!
Not even me!
It’ll be no easy task, I’ll somehow have to mask
Myself as I sneak from place to place
Walking down the hall, I manage to hide from all
By using my bag to hide my face
Oh, bless, there’s my desk!
Not too much farther now
And still a few seconds left, may my feet be swift!
I break into a run, and finally sit down.
By the skin of my teeth, I happily greet
My boss as she walks by
She’ll never know, for I put on a good show
And she doesn’t care anyway to know why
For this is my life from 9–5
Each and every weekday morning
When this day ends, it’ll all start again
But, for now, we’ll end this story