The records of the hours I lost, the miles
I traveled going nowhere fast, and all
The energy I wasted playing ball
With minor-leaguers fill the hefty files
You’ll find right next to several other piles
Of paperwork I’ve stacked outside my stall.
I’m sad, now that the time has come to call
It quits, for I will miss your friendly smiles.
Business is business. Old relationships
Are bound to wane if fellow worker bees
Still dwell on wax instead of thinking honey.
The days when loyalty bore fruit are blips
On ancient radar screens a few degrees
Askew — sweeter by far, the flow of money.