The Glitch Betrays The Mechanism

Waking up some winter morning after two clock-time snoozes,

There is a collapse, 

relapse?

or maybe, prolapse -

When after pulling the towel from my window,

I witness a soft downy bright and silent pattering which does not immediately read

as the word, signified by the crisp, times-new-roman letters S-N-O-W. Period (.)

Meanwhile, the concept is lost among

piles and piles of signifier files, like to the rafters.

And at the foot of each manilla mountain, is the personification of an axon-

A business-casual-clad default person is dwarfed by their respective stack,

shuffling their lot madly

in the office building of the mind.

Meanwhile, someone is shouting into a red rotary phone that

someone else had better, [quote] “file the damned missing concept report, like yesterday, asshole!” [end quote] And someone in HR is worrying a paperclip before their meeting with Conscious Thought who, as a rule are best paid and least busy,

and whose suits are invariably smarter than their deliberations.

And while the concept-in-question is being frantically sought by the underlings,

the Board of Conscious Thought are placidly looking through the window- and

heedless of the bureaucratic nightmare outside the room,

the oldest and most dignified of them is smiling his cracked face into ridges.

-JV