The Warden Smiles
Every institution has its warden and its smile,
every institution has the man who runs the aisle
between the rules and the interpretation of the rules,
between the stated purpose and the tools
that purpose serves, which are not what they appear,
which are not what the mission statement here
on the wall behind the desk in the waiting room
would have you believe before you enter the room.
The warden smiles because the warden has the key,
the warden smiles because the warden is free
to interpret the procedure in the way
the warden finds most useful for the day.
The warden smiles because the warden is the man
who stands between you and the actual plan
of the institution you have come to access.
The warden smiles, and that is your redress.
The warden smiles and it’s the most efficient lock,
the warden smiles and ticks the clock
of the process down to the part where you give up.
The warden smiles and fills the paper cup
of the bureaucratic water that runs cold.
The warden smiles and does exactly as he’s told
by the thing above him and the thing below.
The warden smiles because the warden knows
that you need the thing that he controls access to.
The warden smiles because there’s nothing you can do
that changes the position that he’s in.
The warden smiles, and here we go again.
The warden smiles at the end of every form,
the warden smiles, this is the new norm
of institutional power and its face.
The warden smiles and holds you in your place.
The hospital has its warden in the billing wing,
the county office has its warden managing
the form you need to file the thing before
the thing before the thing that needs the form
before the original form that started all this.
The university has its warden in the abyss
of the financial aid department where you wait,
the insurance company has its warden at the gate
of every pre-authorization that you need
to proceed with the thing your body needs indeed.
And the warden is not evil, that’s the thing,
the warden is not twisting anything
with malice, the warden is just doing the job.
The warden is just turning the doorknob
according to the policy that came from somewhere
above the warden, somewhere in the rare air
of the institution’s decision-making body
that decided this is the methodology
and handed it down through the chain of the warden
who now smiles at you and keeps the garden
of the process growing in its shape,
of the process that was never designed to escape
accountability, only to absorb it.
I have been in front of the warden’s smile,
I have been in front of the warden’s smile for a while,
in the waiting area of the institution
that was supposed to provide the resolution
to the thing that had been sent to it to fix,
that was supposed to process the mix
of paperwork I’d submitted to address
the thing. And the warden with his smile possessed
no ability to move the needle even one
small increment toward the thing being done.
The warden with the smile just processed
the form back to the queue to be assessed
by someone else in the institution’s chain,
and gave me the receipt and said have a nice day.
And I stood in the parking lot and named the thing:
the warden smiles and nothing, nothing, and nothing.
And I walked to the car and I sat in the car,
and I did the math on how far, how far
I was from the thing I’d gone there to address.
I was exactly as far from it in the mess
of the situation as when I’d walked in.
The warden’s smile had not moved one pin
in the whole machine in my direction.
The warden’s smile had not a single section
of the institution listening behind it.
The warden’s smile was the institution, and find it
impossible to be angry at a smile,
find it impossible to be angry at the tile
floor of the waiting room, find it impossible
to aim the anger at the dismissible
process that just processed me back out.
The warden smiles and I drive home without a shout
left in me for tonight, but tomorrow I will bring
the full measure of it back, let the bell ring.