April 17, 2017I Had a Window
I was a squatter
in hearing room 506.
The office was empty.
Claims for the space were under review, stalled
by state bureaucratic snarl.
I was bold, took what should be mine.
The other hearing officers were angry
that I—a transfer, of only a few months—
could see the outside.
They filed petitions to the bosses in Albany.
Those without windows did not speak to me,
even to say hello.
The friends of those without windows
did not speak to me,
even to say hello.
My requests for an ergonomic chair
were thwarted.
But I had a window.
I could see scaffolding.
The tops of city buses. The swirling
litter of downtown Brooklyn.
I could see weather.
I was elated.
Then the email circulated.
I was being moved
to a small windowless nook
in the back northwest corridor of the fourteenth floor.
And now, this is where I sit.
Over the HVAC. Under
the yellow asbestos-drenched tiles.
On my lopsided,
ill-fitted
ergonomic chair.
from #55 - Spring 2017