Wednesday, April 6, 2011


I phone the Immigration service.
I am number 12 in the cue.
Classical tones enter my ears.
I think of the day I'm having.

How come we often feel as we think
How come we make ourselves tired
I feel like a zombie amidst bubbly flowers.
The classical music halts mid flow.

A voice answers:
Justin speaking.
How may I help you today?

I forgive myself for my droopy ways.
I picture the classical music again.
Justin asks for my address.
And I finally feel my mood lift.

Thank you immigration service
For the 8 minute reprieve I needed from my busy brain.
The vibes of goodness have returned.
On the line.

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