You have always been walking down this endless office hallway. Lub-dub, lub-dub, fluorescent (with emphasis on the scent) lights begin and end in an infinite succession. You have been walking here long before the Big Bang and will go on long after the Heat Death of the Universe. Doors line the hallway from horizon to horizon. Most of the doors slam shut and label themselves things like heart and soul before you can even see inside. Occasionally, you catch a glimpse before each door shuts. What’s there? The Peacock Throne of Shah Jahan, the Amber Room, the Mauve Egg, The Concert, the Scepter of Dagobert, the Great Bell of Dhammazedi, a pair of red shoes, two cannons, and a beat up old hard drive—forever beyond reach.

all your base
are belong to us
Parma violets

Joshua (he/him) is an accountant from a small town in Pennsylvania. His poetry has been published or is forthcoming in Notre Dame Review, Blithe Spirit, Presence, Two Thirds North, and Blue Unicorn, among others. His haiku have in several annual anthologies. He is the winner of Rattle: Poets Respond, the Gerald Brady Memorial Senryu Award and the Trailblazer Award. Website