Bad Mood in Interview Room 2
by D. R. James

Despite intimidation it has its way.
Still, from a cubicle with a one-way
window, you scrutinize that self,
though helpless, reluctant to crack
the door, peel off into that space,
fisticuff that thief into submission,
some admission, since if you did,
there’d then be a next you back in
the dark, upon a chair in the corner,
facing the hazed pane of introspection.



 

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