Sitting in the meeting
Surrounded by people who
Look like they know what they are doing
At least
I can smell myself
The onions and garlic of last night's meal
And an acrid undertone I can only call
Fear
Along with the musk I cannot help but wear
And another that comes from thoughts I perforce but should not have
I hope their noses are not so good as mine
Who permit me to sit among them
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Why are y'all still sitting in a meeting? You're supposed to be home with no pants on, like the rest of the country.
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