Django in the Office Some people say life is a circle but this life of mine is a cube. I walk in straight lines. I churn and churn, processing, hour after hour. Day after day. The boss walks by, heels clicking, tie swishing, height the same as girth. A square man. A square man who …
My footsteps click,
a repetition of sound.
An abrupt clang in the alley,
A clattering, a din.
I like jazz, I say out loud.
Did you hear that?
The gin-drinking warbler
The vodka addicted grouse
The crystal meth hummingbird
You’re all welcome in my house!
It was a lazy Sunday afternoon. After blankly reading the same line over and over again, Cerise put down her book (Introduction to Economics) next to her father’s weekend newspaper. It was open to the horoscopes. Just her luck, to have a father who believed in horoscopes. Cerise was not the horoscope type.
She exhales a cloudy fog. Winter makes her breath swallow the shadows, envelope adjacent cars.
Through the window there is a cardinal and through the cardinal there is a way of seeing red.
Communication, over distance, a long winter.