A group of
Friends at a
Favorite restaurant.
One of them
Says something rude
To the waiter.
No one says
Anything,
Looking away instead.
What should be
A joyous moment
Becomes a tedious
Chore, fraught with
Discomfort, trepidation,
The memory of how things
Evolved to this point.
It would be nice to
Be able to avoid it,
But some things
Are inescapable.
Opening a box of
Old things, he’s
Transported back to
A time when things
Seemed brighter, when
The whole world was
Wide open, exciting,
Nothing insurmountable.
He puts everything
Back in, closing off
That part of him again.
All the things
He thought he was
Turned out to be
Errors planted there by
Other people,
Sometimes well-meaning,
But who had no idea
What it means to
Be courageous,
Follow one’s own path in life,
Free from the herd.
All they know is
Selfishness,
Unable to understand or
Care in any way about
The plight of others,
A hollow existence
Reeking of fear and pain,
Bewildered, suspicious, alone.
They are all alike,
And she’s not,
Nor has she ever
Wanted to be,
A wave of ordinary sameness,
Each following
The same insipid song
Toward some distant cliff
Where they’ll all jump off,
Just because that’s
What everyone else does.
She never quite
Trusted him,
Something about
The fake smile,
Overconfidence in
His supposed intelligence,
A general unease,
Lack of connection.
They seem to only admire
What other people like,
As if the only element
That lends authenticity
To any effort is
The approval of
Someone, anyone, else.
Roaming together,
Looking to each other
For confirmation.
Uninspired people huddling
Together for collective
Reassurance, afraid to
Be anything other than
What the prevailing
Decree of the day
Happens to be,
Repeating all the
Same phrases, parroting
Approved sayings,
Purposelessly fitting in,
Melding into insipidness.
