Boss of all bosses of the universe. <br />Mr. know-it-all, wheeler-dealer, wire-puller, <br />And whatever else you're good at. <br />Go ahead, shuffle your zeros tonight. <br />Dip in ink the comets' tails. <br />Staple the night with starlight. <br /> <br />You'd be better off reading coffee dregs, <br />Thumbing the pages of the Farmer's Almanac. <br />But no! You love to put on airs, <br />And cultivate your famous serenity <br />While you sit behind your big desk <br />With zilch in your in-tray, zilch <br />In your out-tray, <br />And all of eternity spread around you. <br /> <br />Doesn't it give you the creeps <br />To hear them begging you on their knees, <br />Sputtering endearments, <br />As if you were an inflatable, life-size doll? <br />Tell them to button up and go to bed. <br />Stop pretending you're too busy to take notice. <br /> <br />Your hands are empty and so are your eyes. <br />There's nothing to put your signature to, <br />Even if you knew your own name, <br />Or believed the ones I keep inventing, <br />As I scribble this note to you in the dark.<br /><br />Charles Simic<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-the-one-upstairs/
