The sneeze loosens paper odors in the cubicles,
suggests days of paper dust peppering the air,
stops the manager stoned in his excel trail
near the closet where the sneeze built its lair.
Surprise! A shredder confetti party! Paper! Ah!
Shoeless clerks dance out of their chairs.
“I’m not sure about this,” the manager demurs,
“Sneezes this robust should be curtailed.”
In a paperless wireless future, clerks recall
the daze of the sneeze: vinyl nostalgias,
sheer nylons and frigate wing tips, stairs,
grey metal desks, smokes and perfumes.
The Coming of the Toads 