My workaday internal journey is long. In my seven to seven (do you remember nine to five?) I travel by tiny coracle from my right ear to my left. First I must shrink down from the towering size I imagine myself to be to the ever diminishing
sub-atomic particle size the world perceives me as. Being this small I am invisible even to my self! Then I can row my neutrino sized coracle with easy. Every day I drop one bottle over the side. They are filled with reports, requests, and memos containing my analytical insights and reviews. The bottles come in two colors, green and amber. I always alternate the colors. What happens to these encapsulated communications is entirely unknown to me. The A.D.D. afflicted, Blackberry addicted Poseidon who signs my check won’t make eye contact. Around me harpies shriek at writhing sea-snakes who hiss in return, but I just tip my hat and paddle by. Marketing nudibranchs in colorful jogging-suits speed-boat by constantly, each time with an amazing new plan. The sea churns with slowly with unemployed remoras hungry for a corporate host.
Nemo’s very own great squid was summoned. It’s management consulting prowess deemed mighty. Staffers were interviewed most sternly and called to task. Costs were upwardly up, profits  were downwardly down, and heads were sure to roll. I must have been anchored midway, becalmed in the spot between maybe yes and maybe no for a year or three and wasn’t missed.
Midpoint means half way home, the tide has changed, and the wind has risen. The setting sun shires through my left ear on the horizon. This provides a lovely golden aura for most the enchanting of mermaids who had arranged herself just so upon my worn ossicles. She brushes out her hair and smiles as she waits for me to come ashore. Ashore with my tales of a long day at work traveling to get where I began.

by-Doug Mathewson