on his desk were all lying
down flat,
two inches apart.
each pointing north
he was wearing a bowtie.
and a red
sweater without sleeves.
the paper clips were
in a small jar,
the stacks of paper
were neatly
aligned, perfectly
collated and
alphabetized.
there was a ball of rubber
bands that he
took out of his drawer
and bounced
on the floor.
so where do you want
to be in five years,
young man, he asked me,
anywhere but here,
i told him
and knocked his hourglass
to the floor.
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