BEHIND THE FAN

I am down
behind the fan
A metal face 
greets the rest of the sweating
darkness for me
The machine that pulls
the cage together
rattles itself
nor coping with errant
brushstrokes spitting up
prepositions at right angles
to hungover storytelling

"I think the hallway this section of the hallway glitches over here," said the man with the briefcase.
"I am down," said the woman carrying several notebooks.
"No, I'm not blaming you. I was just pointing out the funky area part of the hallway," said the man swinging his briefcase to point in the direction of what he was indicating.
"Sometimes the lab waste can really stink up the place," said the woman grimacing and then smiling thinking of Mord's comments on the last stench something along the lines of dead rotting gamey animal smoked in burnt rubber and baby diapers piled to perfection.
"Not bad smelling. Glitched as it doesn't render properly," said the man shaking the briefcase about as if to simulate a rip in the fabric of the simulation.
"Oh, that. Yeah, that's been there since the last wave," said the woman trying to figure out some lyrics she heard in a song at the bar last night or was it the night before that or was it the night before that?
"Last wave? Of turnover?" asked the man with the briefcase jiggling it to the left and then to the right to represent whatever he thought it meant to anyone who might understand that particular movement of briefcases not knowing that one of the guys in the DLC department had a laminated chart in his cubicle.
"Actually, we're not sure. Some think it's turnover, some think it's management, and some think it's the new technology we're using," said the woman having possibly come to the conclusion that she might have confused a solution for the freecell game she got stuck in the other night with a game of mahjong or that she might have confused a solution for a mahjong game she got stuck in the other night with a game of freecell or that it might have been two other completely different games on her cellphone or her kindle the night before that or the night before that.
"That is the damnedest thing," said the man with the briefcase stepping back after noticing he had pulled his briefcase back away from that part of the hallway.
"One of the women in advertising thinks it could be a combination of software upgrades and turnover or a sequence of various combinations of combinations or the weather we've been having lately," said the woman scratching her head and feeling the anger in her jaw and gums towards how the local supermarket had rearranged their shampoo and body wash aisles.
"What weather?" asked the man with the briefcase checking to see if it had picked up any strange build-up from the air outside.
"Dust storms," said the woman.
"I didn't catch your name," asked the man with the briefcase loosening his grip on the handle ever so slightly to appear more nonchalant.
"You didn't catch my name because you were so focused on my ID# APN621," said the woman smiling an oh-by-the-way-go-fuck-yourself smile.
"What would happen if I walked through the glitched section of the hallway?" asked the man with the briefcase tightening his grip on the handle.
"Nothing, just brain damage," said the woman looking him in the eyes as he tried to maintain eye contact.
"That's a load of crap," said the man with the briefcase widening his eyes as he stared back at her.
"If you walk through that part of the hallway you might find yourself suddenly overcome with a sudden urge to visit the snack machine," said the woman making a smacking noise with her lips.
"Maybe it is the smell my senses are becoming more fucked up lately as I get older," said the man with the briefcase loosening his grip on the handle and worrying that it would slip out of his hand and fall to the floor and echo loudly in the corridor.
"Have you ever had a stroke?" asked the woman seeing the worry in his face.
"My family thinks it was a stroke, but I think I have always had trouble taking things in self-preservation you know and expressing myself," said the man with the briefcase gently bumping the side of it against his right kneecap.
"I doubt it. The cameras at both ends have taken in an overly long conversation an exchange of loads loads of crap as you would say. I tend to tarry when people like yourself think they can fuck others after they've had their way with words when they see glitches. Don't think I'm going to tell you don't hold your breath because I want you to hold your breath. I want to see your face turn purple with every wave every wave that is more seamless than the next. You may have a bad allergy season here and there, but you'll just wipe it all off along with the build-up on your briefcase."
"I don't have any allergies," said the man with the briefcase swinging his briefcase a little.
"Lucky you," said the woman.

I am down
behind the fan
A metal face 
greets the rest of the sweating
darkness for me
The machine that pulls
the cage together
rattles itself
nor coping with errant
brushstrokes spitting up
prepositions at right angles
to hungover storytelling

"I am down."

- Max Stoltenberg