Mr. Death, you have mellowed me.
Once, an e-mail mistake
would have stiffened and crumbled me,
like a stale chocolate cookie.
But today, with your generous help,
I'm as spongy as fresh bread,
juicy as a ripe cantaloupe,
knowing there are worse things
than forwarding a personal comment
to the wrong person. Unfortunate mistake,
but not as unfortunate
as you, Mr. Death. You've done
far more damage to my life than
a few days of office embarrassment.
Take the single kudo, Mr. Death,
but lose the smug grin.
Your inbox is still jammed
with complaints.