Ceiling tiles are empty comic strips,

Copy and paste characters

From around the table.

Thought bubbles fill too quickly,

Sharp words

Poke the sides,

Tone elbows them around

Until one sarcastic phrase too many

Takes a bite

Out of its bubble boundary,

You groan and roll your eyes.

Now glares

From Mr. Special Speaker

And his laser pointer friend

Could shred your thoughts

Like an angry editor.

You know,

You should have cut  and pasted.