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10:00 am. At a work meeting. Time slows down.

January 28, 2015

Somewhere beyond the books a printer whines,
and in the mustard-coloured pipes a bird
cajoles me for escape, but I am trapped.
My ugly orange pen scrawls out these lines
pretending to take notes–Oh take me now!
His voice drones on; the meeting drags; my eyes
glaze over; tiredness steals me; I am gone.
“Becoming One,” “The Transformation of
a Heart,” and “Marriage Revolution” stare
at me and mock my intellect as I’m
already subject to a damning crush
of mental dryness / desert / washed out / cracked
and sieving sand. I rub my eyes and some
comes out and sighs upon the table–AH!
my name’s been called!–ignore me, please!–oh Lord!–
please leave me be!–oh God!–oh good. We’ve moved
on to my neighbour. Thank the fates. A sigh.
I will survive. I will diminish.

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