the orwellian man

The Orwellian man hooked his arm, and forced his face into
A serious box.
He sought out a pencil with his long dainty fingers
But felt none.
He couldn’t see,
For he was not wearing his thick spectacles.
“standard”
“manage”
“product”
He thought.
He clenched his teeth as he continued to search
For a pencil.
Still in the dark.
Still without his spectacles.
He thought,
“standard,”
“manage,”
“product.”
He whispered
And contorted his mouth into
The words
“manage”
“standard”
“product.”
Still in the dark.
Still without his spectacles.
Still without a pencil.
He clenched his teeth
And cursed pencils everywhere.
He found a pen
instead.