The job interview


It was only a 5 minute

early morning walk

from Lev Tolstoy station,

17 stories up

a grey, non distinct office building.


A few quick handshakes

a brief scan of my starved resume

and a few quick questions

that was it.

The head teacher led me

out of the conference room

and into the school’s small lobby.


As I stepped out

a small Brit tossed his head and asked

“Join me for a smoke?”.

I followed along, out onto

a balcony, enjoying

the fall’s fresh slavic air

and now looking down

the mighty Dniepr in the distance.


A few more stabs of conversation

‘n small talk

then the guy

flicks his unfinished fag

out into the wild yonder

puts his hands through his hair

and says,

“It was only last Thursday”.

“Thursday, what?”, I replied.

“Thursday, the guy were replacing jumped.”


A moment of silence

then I muttered a

“sorry to hear” and

a “good to know”,

shook his hand and

found my way out

onto the waking streets of Kyiv.


I didn’t bitch much when

I found out I hadn’t got the job.

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