I have made an appointment
to talk with myself
at a palace full of mirrors
The secretary ushers me in
to sit in the chair
where Buddha sat on the floor
The mirrors are ahead of me
but to the far left
are windows looking out
I am given the instructions
that I will be late
to this meeting for which I hoped
When I finally arrive
I have been thinking
about everything in my life
I tell myself that I must believe
in strange musical notes
that keep playing behind me
I lay flowers at my feet
that suddenly walk
in a circle around me
Under other circumstances
I would walking out
because the interview exhausts me
Over my left shoulder the windows
open by themselves
when the flowers tickle my toes
My feet begin to move me
into the morning light
where the music is loudest
Hold me close I demand
as the garden beckons
in a concerto of perfumes
A bell rings loudly three times
when Buddha breaks the chair
to the horror of the secretary
I float near the open window
expecting nothing less
the meeting ends abruptly
The floor meets my singing feet
when the answer flows
that I am not hired for this position
The interview did not go well
as I walk through music
grabbing notes to lessen my fall
Barry G. Wick
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