It’s casual Friday, and the week’s been long enough
and hard enough that everyone is dressing down.
The doorman left his uniform at home today,
and wears his favorite tie-dye wig spilled flowing
all Godiva-like, down to his silver-paint-tipped claws.
Old Harry in the elevator hums snatches of his boring tunes
while twirling his waxed mustache, his sword cane jaunty in his hand.
The seventh floor receptionist is wearing pearls of course, again,
as though we really care about that little ring of scars,
and Erol down in marketing came up to greet me wearing skins
he picked up at that flaying party last July, before you came —
I know you’ve heard me talk about the copy boys we used to have
so long ago, before the boss decided on that job cut spree,
or maybe you’ve seen pictures he keeps on his desk.
And have you noticed Mary yet? She looks quite lovely
with her wings all tattered from the thorn-barbed whips
those IT guys so love to use, the ones they got last Christmas time,
a present from the company nurse. Yes Mary looks so good in red,
and if it drips a bit, that only means that you and I won’t have to pony up for donuts for a day or two. I meant to say, I really love the way you’ve done your face… or is it yours? And thanks, these are my favorite jeans.
(Previously published in Star*line)
Marcie Lynn Tentchoff is a poet/writer/editor from the west coast of Canada, where she lives surrounded by trees, blackberry bushes, animals, and family. Her work has appeared in such publications as Weird Tales, Strange Horizons, and Star*Line, and she has edited magazines and anthologies of fantasy, sf, and horror, aimed both at adult readers and children. She also teaches acting and creative writing at a local dance studio, and therefore spends much of her time writing and reading odd little scripts. She does not like pepper. At all.