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Showing posts from September, 2007

visa

the 22nd floor of a glass tower just glass, marble the air of tension & power harsh, cold, curt intercom scratched voices staccato syllables false politeness with a spirit of fear & suspicion a blind behind glass opens to a faceless face & mute reflections at least the elevators sing whistling a mating call as they pass each other let the glass and marble mate speedily the breath of up and down as humans degrade each other to the baseline slide all documents to the end ... - See: personal :: note :: ... written in an consulant waiting for a visa application ...