Hello, this is— 

How may I help you today? 

Is it a matter of life and death, 

or the hum of pocket jingles? 

Breathe in deep—smell the coffee, 

ignore the formaldehyde, 

it’s not my fault. He told me— 

but yes, pocket jingles, so I said, 

true, true, I did; ma’am may I help you? 

You hear the keys click like bones 

popped out of joint, like jaws 

gnawing at grit; like fingernails 

tapping on the Formica in the foyer— 

ignore, please, how the fluorescent lights 

denude the stains in the carpet. 

It was here when my grandfather had 

this desk. Here are his initials; 

yours go here. Sign the dotted line. 

Crack your knuckles. Take off your ring 

and pick up the phone. 

I’ll be with you tomorrow.