Lonely Offices

Image:  Created by Grok inspired by “Lonely Offices”

Lonely Offices

“What did I know, what did I know 
of love’s austere and lonely offices?” —from Robert Hayden’s “Those Winter Sundays”

At her invitation,
He appears in her dream
Visiting the farm
Where she was raised.

Years have separated their paths,
Through schools of anxiety,
And she is chasing a phantom
Down the fog-dusted dreamscape.

He appears with briefcase in hand.
Instead of facing her in conversation,
He spreads a pile of papers over
A large table, begins studying them.

Offhand, he asks her what she wants.
Dream fog swallows her answer,
But he empathically asserts,
“Any response will cost $192,119.46!”

A price she equally emphatically 
Rejects as she gasps, 
Trying to grasp his proposal
To prostitute himself.

Yet she knows she will never comprehend 
The offer and even if she had the cash, 
She would never hand it over.
She picks up her guitar and walks forward

Saying, “I will sing some of my songs for you—
For free.”  He rejects the offer, stuffs his papers
Into the briefcase, and without a word or gesture 
Of farewell, walks back into the fog of illusion.