12.30 on a Friday

12.30 on a Friday
On a hot afternoon mid-day
Office workers spill onto the streets
Free at last from stoic spreadsheets
From the watchful eye of superiors
Tolerated in the name of proper careers
Free at last from their cubicles
To display true quirks and foibles
Finally for an hour or so
To do as one pleases, to go
Away from the concrete landscape
For a few minutes of escape
From the freezing tundra
As though of winter countries afar
Where coherence and creativity
Are hindered by subzero frigidity
Oh sweet Saturday beckons
In a few more hours I reckon.