Cubist Conference

The meeting had been rescheduled for Wednesday.

We gathered in the small conference room at 1:30.

The walls were a dusky blue;

the long table was a sturdy indigo;

the chairs an intriguing teal.

I stared at my chair, which existed only in two dimensions.

Tried to take a seat and slipped right off.

I decided to just stand at attention,

not sure what to do with my arms.

Donna, a consulting manager, entered the room.

Each of her three faces wore a different expression.

The smiling face said,

“Hello, good to see you.  How was your vacation?”

The neutral face looked down at her notepad

as she flipped to a blank page.

The third face narrowed her eyes, bared her teeth at me,

and hissed like an animal.

“Shall we get started?” Donna’s pleasant face asked.

My coworker Sarah was already seated.

Her eyes were pointed skyward,

her toothless mouth a rictus of despair.

She held her clenched fists in the air

but otherwise remained motionless and silent.

Jackie recited the new projects that had come in,

asked me if I could take on the Seattle account.

“I know it’s not convenient,” she added,

as one of her eyes turned into a triangle

and slid to the other side of her head.

Of course it wasn’t convenient,

but I agreed to do it, of course,

with a sideways crescent-moon grin on my face.