Sabotage at the Subliminal Tape Factory

Jim Zola

You work the first shift.
Expectations are petty
theft, laziness.

You think of Bird’s
be-bop and swing,
the first mover unmoved,

where every story
begins with once
upon a time, think

of the voice beneath
the smooth voice, within.
What glorious

possibilities.
After hours you lie
in a field till arms

and legs take root,
till dirt fills pores
and your heart

suddenly sails
into the unknown

where trees are thought
and thought is sabotage.