He filled out forms in triplicate,
sitting on a small ledge in the wind.
The forms had been erased previously
and were torn, someone else’s name
had leaked through. The man who could
help was leaving early and was visibly
reticent to help. “It’s on-line, you know,”
the man said as he locked the door.
Around him at a long cafeteria table
a meeting, he was not a part of, swirled
loudly between officious blonde women
in white blouses and commanding men.
His computer screen was not loading
the correct screen, as they discussed
where they should be and what would
happen when they arrived, as if they
were a corporation of seers who had
no need of industry conventions, just
old agendas to document what was
going to happen later in their absence.
When his computer screen finally opened,
he could not remember his name, nor where
he was, and everyone was gone. He looked
through the glass wall of the building.
Outside it was raining and the city streets
were empty. Three doves sat stoically on
the leafless branch of an old oak tree,
oblivious to his formulaic dilemma.
(November 28, 2015)
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