She blew through the glass door, black
tall boots and short cropped dark, gray peppered hair.
A stack of papers and notebooks approximately 7 inches thick.
She Belonged body and soul to Mary Kay,
A quasi-cult corporate Hydra.
It appeared terribly absurd, the way she
spoke to thin air, gesturing and smiling out of habit.
As if an empty chair held the actual form
behind the voice on the Cell phone ear piece
which facilitated obtrusively loud far off communication.
She advised the voice to pray,
that the hotel off of George Bush Toll way
would offer them a lower rate on the meeting room.
To pray that they would
include the buffet as a part of a pre-agreed upon price.
And that the buffet might attract more participants to the event.
at an attractive price of $2 per head.
She advised the voice on the other side,
the invisible cohort,
to continue praying in this direction.
That she was absolutely sure
that the lord had a plan for them,
that their business initiative would work out splendidly.
She was very loud, as I said
and something like a circus side show attraction
a bearded lady, a sword swallower.
She was a soulless female networking automaton.
A real flying saucer suicide, and she was loud.
I couldnt drink my coffee.
I couldnt read Ken Wilber and conceptualize emergent Holons.
I couldnt relax.
I couldnt breathe in normal ways.
Then suddenly 2 men walked in, shirts tucked under bellies,
with the same space age Cell phone ear devices.
Like 1950s Robots, Klatu Barrada Niktu
Domo Arigato Mr. Roboto.
They simultaneously ordered Chai Tea Lattes
Then began speaking in a rhythmic Latinish
Benedictine backbeat conjure chant.
One started a Boogaloo Shrimp Breakdance
twirling head spin routine, while the other tapped his foot.
It was time for me to get,
and to get fast, while the getting was good.
I farted a heady bouquet while sauntering past the woman.
Letting her have it real good.
And I could feel her praying in my direction
As I plummeted through the glass door.