Previously, I wrote a little about my time, my one year in Kyiv. Saddening to see so much pain, suffering, damage. But even during my time there, this too was the case, though maybe not as severe as war. But damn close. My heart is with the regular folk there - both sides.
Last week, they had a report of a missile landing and hitting an apartment building in Central Kyiv. Reminded me of this poem, an actual story. The building looked exactly the same, might be the same as the one in the poem - though as with so many old communist buildings, they all were and do and did look the same!
The Job Interview
It was only a 5 minute
early morning walk
from Lev Tolstoy station,
then 17 stories up
a grey, nondistinct office building.
A few quick handshakes,
a brief scan of my starved resume
and a few quick questions
that was it.
The headteacher 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 morning’s
fresh Slavic air
and now looking down on
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 day
the guy we're 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.