Decided – or been decided, luckily it was 1977
so any decision was free, contextually.
Favourite shirt, white cotton, four buttons
to the neck, overly large, unflappably flappy –
it was even clean, jeans, basically
in 1977 it was always jeans.
Enter formal entrance, footsteps echo
on floors a thousand feet have traversed
before two huge doors, wooden, designed
to intimidate, worked, says a lot about
doors passed and thresholds still to cross,
a sign – interviews this way arrow demands
the right, dutifully followed,
encounter four students hardly older
seated, erectly, behind a large table,
table adorned with a white table cloth –
it matched the shirt except whiter
newer, suited to that room
and time. “Sit,” sat,
interview began – blame the voice
not its timbre, its deep, beautiful resonance,
a bassoon of a voice – its ability
to locate specifically
in that room, on that chair.
Voice, hair too, long, obviously washed,
overly so, combed to perfection –
not theirs, allowed to just be, hanging
loose, they had no attention
to details to worry about, speak…
the chair moves further and further away
an interrogation in long shot – reverse zoom,
table, corridor – two double doors, outside;
‘thank you, we’ll let you know,’
already did, contrast of voice, of hair,
the large staring portraits understood
everything in that room knew – the room itself,
especially in 1977, University
may have been free but entry never was.
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