Speak To Me, Manager

This is a job interview. I'm
going to ask you some very personal questions.
Who are you. Where
is home for you and why
haven’t you been back.
Who is your father and why does
he not answer. What do you seek
in this madness of a sea.
Would you like a coffee or tea.
Can you roll a boulder up a hill for eternity.
What are your salary expectations
and why do you expect to be
worth anything at all.
Do you think if your catalogued
regrets were compressed into a fatberg
of hate and loss it would constipate
you until death.
I'll give you some time
to answer these. Would you like
another coffee or tea. I see
your references are your mom and your
cat and you mention please don't
call your cat during business
hours because he has meetings
with his parole officer. Please call
the police. We have been trapped
in this open plan office for the length of Lent.
Sometimes we all pound on the glass
hoping the passerby will hear
our metallic shrieks. Some
of us have become cybonic
half-human half-exposed brick
half-upholstered half-titan
cyclopses, blinded by fluorescent tubes, but
at least there are no cubicles. Charbydis
snarls below on the street for yet another
bus to be caught in the roaring
and dragged to where
the sun has been drowned and
the dead walk free. The pros and cons
of working in the industry I'd say
are flexible hours and really great perks,
especially the bike share program,
we also give out free Macbook Airs,
I'd say the bespoke salads are delicious
but every time we reach for them they flee our
grasp; cons are probably the furies
screeching from the ceiling fan, the dog,
ravenous, pawing the door,
the nailbent chairs where the damned
have been strapped and cry
for mercy or for a second death.
What do you want to do
before you die. What is your
ten year plan. What is your
plan right now. Why
is your muse silent.

1 \ 2