Entry Level

I walked past that glass box on 5th

and my throat went tight as a wire.

The building is a cold, silver myth

that tried to set my dignity on fire.

She didn't even look up at my face.

The laptop screen stayed between us like a shield.

I was talking about my skills, my pace,

trying to keep my history concealed.

I reached for the plastic cup on the side

and my hand was a separate, shaking thing.

The water made circles, nowhere to hide,

rippling out in a perfect, mocking ring.