The screen glows blue on the wall,
slides flickering like a firefly at dusk
as words wash up and down the table.
The long rectangular piece of polished
wood is holding up stalagmites of glasses,
Mountain Dew, Dr. Pepper, Diet Coke,
half-eaten cookies on black plastic plates,
a bowl of peppermints, some opened
with empty wrappers scattered
around the speaker phone, offerings
at the altar of communication, random
power strips and extension cords
the detritus of lengthening hours,
with cell phones placed strategically
for easy reach: we are all packing heat.
The words swirl around this architecture,
dancing lightly on each prop and artifact
lingering on the remains of a formal agenda.
A wall of windows frames miniature trees
in the garden outside, the panes of separation.
Sculpted pines stand guardian in the wind,
casting growing shadows on the easel filled
with bullet points and brainstormed words.
A squirrel pauses, then darts into a bush.