it just doesn’t seem like you

by John Grochalski

i’m at my desk

in this semi-private office they’ve given to me

i listened to brahm’s fist symphony

as i walked to work this morning

forcing myself not to think about the job.

i’m reading the new york times

on the computer

and thinking that it can’t get much

worse in the world

she walks in the office

she startles me.

she says, here this came for you in the mail

she throws a book on my desk

i look up from the new york times and i thank her

she lingers in the office.

she has on a red zip-up sweater

that has the word disney emblazoned across it

there is a picture of mickey mouse in a top hat.

he’s waving to me.

i hate disney and i hate mickey mouse.

she looks at me and i look at her.

she looks down at the book.

ezra pound, she says.

i nod.

i never would’ve took you for an ezra pound fan.

oh no, i say.

nah, you just don’t seem like that kinda person.

this book doesn’t seem like you.

then she walks out of the office before i get a chance

to ask her what seems like me

i want to know what impression i’ve made on her

in the month that i’ve been there.

i follow her out into the work room.

she’s standing with a bunch of my other co-workers

they are laughing and drinking coffee

she’s doing clerical work and telling everyone

how funny the alvin and the chipmunks movie was.

they all suddenly want to see the movie

alvin and the chipmunks has become the height

of american cinema at this place.

i go back in the office

i look down at ezra pound and he stares

maddeningly back up at me.

i think, well ez, we truly are alone in this.

i sit back down at the computer.

i open up the new york times online

and start to read it again.

the world has really gone to shit, i say quietly.

and now i know what kind of a person i am.