Under the Big-Top

Dear Lady who works in the accounting department but whose name I’m not sure of, why do you always look as if life has passed you by? I feel sad when I walk by your desk each day and I wonder what is or is not happening in your world that makes you look so detached and forlorn. Is there nothing in your life that brings laughter and joy to your hollowed dark eyes and warmth into your lonely heart? Has the day-to-day routine of this depressing room gotten to you in such a way that it has invaded your entire life so that it is one bland repetitious Groundhog Day?

Let’s run away and join the circus on our lunch break. I will be the lion tamer and you could be a clown. You could wear funny hats and silly make-up, drawing a smile or a frown on your face each day, depending on your mood. You could act outrageous, do somersaults and squirt people in their faces with a tricked out water shooting flower that is pinned onto your lapel. Would that get a giggle out of you? You could stop coloring your hair that horrible color that is neither here nor there and instead wear a multi-colored wig. Would you like that? I would. You could run around under the big-top and throw colorful confetti and magic sparkles into the air so that it would gently fall on children’s heads and watch their faces light up with glee. Would that make you forget about that pen that you push in the same direction hour after hour and those blasted phone calls that you have to answer?

Yes, let’s run away and join the travelling circus and drink lime green margaritas and cotton candy pink cosmos as we traipse across the country by train with all of the other carneys. You could ditch those worn out taupe colored pumps that you stuff your feet into each morning and trade your work clothes in for big floppy shoes and baggy pants held up by brightly striped suspenders – sounds comfy to me. I’m going to have a big tall top hat on my head and red jacket with tails and shiny gold buttons and I’m going to carry a long bull whip that I will crack in the lion’s direction and the crowd will “ooh” and “ahh” in fear that the lion might eat me in one fell chomp. They won’t know what pals that lion and I are and how we sit together and share a bit of Brie on occasion while we plan out our dramatic circus scenes.

We will spend most nights entertaining the throngs of excited visitors who come happily to watch us perform what we do best and at the end of the show they will stand cheering and clapping their hands in appreciation for a job well done. How would that feel my lady who sits at that sad gray desk in that dingy beige basement of a room? Let’s go…