before the door opened
the man’s three wrinkles stuck
and stayed there;
the jingle bells rang—
[alerting the first secretary}
while the mezuzah stayed in place
and kept watch
he noticed it
before walking up
the steps
recognizing no one
a fire in his mouth
a secular dragon
eager to flame payot
and bitchslap shtreimel
deride the sheitel
and ridicule “modesty”—
the fabric of his forehead
moving from three
to
one
slowly
moving
vein
[he was never good enough
for them
too modern and contemporary
too lacking
in discipline, in honor
too cheeky and disruptive
too disrespectful
too ignorant] but
finally
before him
there were faces with names
veils removed
informal charges
to be doled and screamed
acerbic language
vitriol with purpose
when the fire subsided
he was met with confusion
screwed up expressions
blank canvases in vacant cadavers—
but the smoke lingered
like a stench of heavy sulfur
resting on their desks
seeping through their keyboards
corroding their high-and-mighty water
shriveling up their cocky arrogance
into a flaccid-droopy-penis of an office--
a staff of shrinking pathetic balls
a bully bullied
the jingle bells rang—
and the mezuzah shifted its place