Most of the time she’s
All smiles and effusive
Kindness but every once
In a while something else
Appears, a face that
Speaks of needs unmet and
Scores unsettled, a primal
Shriek of pain and
Unhappiness tearing a ragged
Hole in the tenuous fabric
That is her daily appearance.
Take an eager, hopeful
Middle class family that
Makes enough to pay the
Bills each month and start
Increasing the cost of
Everything they need to live.
Make sure to include
Things they really need
Like soap and toilet paper,
Milk, cereal, bread, cheese.
Keep downsizing everything
While raising prices,
Eventually they’ll notice
Their bank account shrinking,
Vacations not occurring,
Health care postponing,
Mortgage defaulting,
Hunger visiting,
Death by a thousand cuts.
I see him struggling
But it’s too late,
The poison has already
Worked its way in
Deep inside,
Immune to reason.
Having had a particular
Life experience where
She hasn’t had to think
Much, if at all, about
Anyone else but herself and
Those in her immediate circles,
She deems it appropriate to
Prattle on about things
Clearly beyond her ken
But that she nevertheless
Strongly feels she has a
Conclusive perspective on
That supersedes the actual
Experience of those who
Live through the hardships
Caused by her misperception.
If he had been told
That he’d be going there
To experience something
Horrible, it’s quite
Certain he wouldn’t have
Believed it, such things
Almost always materialize
As an undesirable and
Unforeseen surprise.
As he got ready for the
Event, all he could
Think about was her
Face and how much he
Was looking forward
To seeing her again.
He still remembers
That evening, with a
Mixture of sorrow and
Venom, sometimes
Hoping he will
Have the opportunity
To repay the favor.
Fumbling around randomly
Trying to figure out
Who they are, where they
Belong, what they mean in
Relation to the greater
Scheme of things, but mostly
What can they do to receive
The greatest amount of pleasure
As quickly as possible with
The least amount of effort and
Without any regard for anyone
Else but themselves on this
Or any other day which could
Be used to gain greater personal
Insight but is expended instead
On the pursuit of the petty,
The saddest story being when
This particular modus vivendi
Is never transcended.
Contorted, enraged face,
Screeching in pain as
He senses that things
Aren’t the same as they’ve
Always been, that he can’t
Impose his boorish, petty
Will on everyone, that he
Won’t be afforded every
Opportunity by virtue of
Birth, that his place
On top of the pyramid is
Now a prelude to a swift
Downward slide, undeniable
Evidence of the hollow
Power and influence
Wielded by him and
Others sympathetic.
Things that seemed so commonplace
Now holding places of distinction
In memory, minor now major,
The passage of time imparting
New depth of color and hue
To what was once easily overlooked,
Were it not too late already.
Aggressive roars disturb
The once peaceful neighborhood.
An old woman peers out
Through the shutters.
Another rumbling behemoth
Imposes its dominance.
A new way of doing things,
Flouting civility.
