The Guy You Work With by the Famous Australian Poets John Grey (Poem)

What you want more than anything is to grab the zebra in your jaws. Forget the job. Forget teamwork. Roll the nature film, You''ve seen your neighbor in his flashy car. You've heard the whispers of bonuses for others delivered behind locked doors like secret Mason handshakes. You just need five minutes or so of stalking in the dry Savannah grass. And then one good sniff of your prey nibbling weeds by a small lagoon. What better than a slow creep up behind that unknowing striped back as deliberate as sharpening a pencil. And then the pounce, the real law of the jungle, you with your fangs around its rump, it braying in agonizing terror. What you want from life is to trot back to your den in triumph, zebra intestine flapping in your jaw like spaghetti. So they don't pay you as much as the next guy. You're at the point now that if they paid you in zebras that would be enough.