4-3-17
the atrium smells of stale coffee
and damp newspapers
the floor was clean once
the dirt crunches
under your feet
as you shuffle them
the left taking your weight
then the right
glancing at all the others
killing time
all the while the line
you all stand in
creeps slowly forward
where the badges wait
to be pinned
with austere finality.
© Erik Hansen 2017
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