THE INTERVIEW

Days spent searching and wishing,
For a decent job, any job
She had only five minutes left now,
Suddenly her armpits were wet and itchy

And so was her neatly made hair
Instantly she knew this was another dead end
He smiled warmly and invited her to take a seat,
His eyes roving lustfully over her body

Eyes lingering, longingly at her breasts,
Down to her shapely legs
The interview was over before it began

She either had to give to knowing
Invitingly pert pout,
Looking him straight in the eyes,
And the job was hers
It was fruitless to lend an ear,
To his arrogant, sarcastic drawl