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

Epilogue

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