The fluorescent lights flicker overhead
threatening an impending darkness,
cob webs on this low ceiling become a hanging obstacle course
like a grandmother threw her wig into the desk fan.
The file cabinet is broken and covered in dust,
years of mismanaged paperwork sits churned in its belly,
leather riding chaps draped over it like a funeral shroud
but a fat orange tabby makes its nest there instead.
Flies are summoned by my presence,
slaves to my middle class blood,
they jitterbug along my lips in preparation for
some tiny ballroom dancing competition.
A sheet of construction paper hangs alone on the empty tack board,
a child’s colored horse and rider,
though it’s raining outside I sometimes think it’s the shitty drawing of
the colored pony prancing on the tin roof overhead.