Smile

Smiling platitudes.

Weak mouthed grimaces continue to do the rounds, circling and dancing with the others.

A hideous and sad little minstrel band observes from the gallery watching the fools do the gargoyle dance below.

Kiss ass.

Fit in.

Part of the team.

Half friendly, half embracing, barely concealing the contempt for each other.

Then the nightly farewells and well wishes, watching yourself reel off the same shit, hating yourself in the frozen air of the car journey home…

…complicit in your own downfall,

but ready to do the same dance and the same smile

tomorrow.

*

Sophie E Tallis ©