The Interview


Straighten that tie

Comb your hair, neatly parted,

The smell of pomade emanates

Another set of eyes to impress

Another set of asshole questions to answer

A well met hand shake, dead skin cells flake from friction, they fall gently to the neatly buffed floor.

The exchange of dumb, toothy smiles, so easy and willing.

Whoring pleasantries through the clatter of footsteps.

Straighten up!

Knock that dandruff off your shoulder.

Don’t be yourself, not here….

The desk that divides, filled with documents and expensive writing utensils, hours of life bound with paper clips..

What are some of your strengths? Says “the have” to “the have not”…

It takes a lot of strength not to tell you what I really think! Thinks” the have not”, but he says differently…

His voice quivers with discomfort, spilling an array of bullshit… furthest from the truth.

“The have” pauses just long enough to let the sting of discomposure settle.

What are some of your weaknesses? “the have” says to “the have not”

Stop shaking your god damn leg!

Fold your hands in your lap!

Look like you have got some sense! ….

I can’t help but have a burning hatred for everything to do with people like you! Thinks “the have not”, but he says differently.

Again a story of brackish bullshit dribbles from his mouth, dry with a thin layer of nervous spit.

This time a well met handshake was tainted with sweat …

“The have” wipes his hand on the breast of his pinstriped shirt, watching “the have not” walk away

A document gets crumpled up and lands with a thud in a trash can found on the side of the dividing desk.

The sound is muffled by the clatter of footsteps…

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