The Office Park

Back then it was new. It was
Not something you thought about.
You thought about the small farms

That used to be here, maybe.
About the end of the world,
You thought a lot. The Cold War

And science fiction movies
Kept that topmost in your mind
Of cut-and-pasted futures.

But you never thought about
The future obsolescence
Of this ordinary space

Of the landscaped office park
You commuted to daily,
The glass-and-steel atrium,

The wings of identical
Cubicles decorated
With framed family photographs

And tchotchkes, the vast first-floor
Workplace cafeteria,
Walled on three sides with windows

Onto manicured green lawns
With strategic maple trees.
You never thought of silence

In the heyday of yuppies
Commuting to the suburbs.
You should have easily guessed,

Nights when you worked late, given
The way the hush descended,
Then the crickets pulsed outside.