I vanished last week.
I’d always wanted to.
But now I have,
I want to come back.
I was at my desk.
My chair was an uncomfortable feeling.
The fluorescent lights were accusing.
I stole reams of papers
From the copier,
Sellotaped them into a shroud
They put posters up for me.
I saw one at the bus stop today.
‘Have you seen this man?’ the poster said —
The picture was blank.
I said to the woman
With the woven face: ‘that’s me’,
But her face had no buttons to see.
When I arrived at work
Someone was laughing in my place.
He knew how to talk and look
And wore a borrowed smile from a book.
‘That’s my uncomfortable feeling.’ I said.
But he just laughed at the fluorescent lights above my head.
I walked home.
But not even the rain sees me now —
It just falls right through.