by on January 24, 2017 :: 0 comments

He didn’t bark –
he was the icy type –
his look slowly worked the meal grinder,
turning my confidence into hamburger –
then, when he was done,
he dismissed me
with a fierce wind
that blew me from there
like a paper bag running frantic
down the sidewalk –

that’s why,
when you saw me later,
I was nothing more
than a battle-scarred frown
and a mind that felt frayed
like a run in a stocking –

I can still see your face,
small and inquisitive,
pretty but not too pretty,
picking my version of events
out of the conversation like lint –

what could I say?
I was lamb – he was slaughter –
my resume was as thin
as the paper it was typed upon –

but never mind –
the air was rustling up spring.
days met my demand
for something longer and warmer,
and the coffee shop smell
was strong and friendly enough
to hire me in a minute –

but life doesn’t end with one rough situation
so what if I didn’t get the job I wanted –

I got the job I didn’t want –
and my ultimate disappointment
did my confidence
a world of good.

editors note:

No self sale when not self sold. – mh clay

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