Toilet/Interview

Mirror. Lipstick. Smile. Another toilet/interview.

The same harsh lighting. The smell of stale perfume.

Your reflection asks: Is this the one? The job for you?

 

The first time is memorable (you wear boots in cobalt blue)

and gush and fawn too much to bear – they say you’ll hear back ‘soon.’

Mirror. Lipstick. Smile. Another toilet/interview.

 

You stop counting rejections. You live with déjà vu.

Of the many cloakrooms, bathrooms, boardrooms, waiting rooms

your reflection asks: Is this the one? The job for you?

 

Every toe and baby finger crossed, this time you hope you’re through,

You think that you have prepped enough, that you come across as groomed:

Mirror. Check your lipstick. Smile. Another toilet/interview.

 

They say candidates are many and of jobs there are too few;

You have what they are looking for but have learnt you can’t presume

so once again you’re asking: Is this the one? The job for you?

 

Too many rubbish contracts for jobs never renewed,

Too many hours, years of time in a loop you know resumes

with careful mirrored lipstick smiles and toilet/interviews.

You don’t ask anymore if this job is for you.

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