A stupefying world of
Tepid vanilla,
Drones marching in
Unison to the call of
Conformity, each one
The same as the last,
Quick-drying cement
Encasing creativity,
Voices muffled,
Flowers trampled.
I remember when I
Used to be someone else,
When I would do anything
Just to get along,
Stifle my voice so others
Could trample on me,
Pretend I was less smart
Than I really was,
Impersonate someone who
Was less capable than them,
Stroke their egos so they
Could feel stronger,
Let them tell me what
Was best for me or how
Things should be done.
He plays the part well,
The down-home, good old boy
You could sit down and
Have a beer with and maybe
Chat about how much you
All love the country and
Real people, not those
Miscreants on the coasts.
They vote him in and he
Immediately shows his
True stripes, it’s not
About taking care of the
Small-town guy, it’s about
Showering his wealthy buddies
With lavish gifts,
Taking care of number one.
When his followers start
Catching on a bit,
He simply puts on a hat
And boots and gives a
Patriotic/religious speech
Stressing the importance of
Family and community,
Strength, honor, deceit.
We walk down to the water,
Pails and shovels in hand,
Soft shuffling of expectant steps.
Kneeling in magical pools
Nestled in rocks lined with sand.
Warm breeze comforting,
Sun infusing us with contentment,
Gentle waves lapping.
You next to me, commenting on
The little creatures in their dainty
Homes, a secret world of
Shimmering, rippling light.
We talk about nothing in particular
And everything.
When all the
Money in the country
Goes to a very small
Group at the very top,
That leaves very little
To no resources for
Anyone else, because,
You know, just a few
People have all the
Money, sort of like in
The old game where
Someone would buy all
The properties and
Watch everyone pay rent
And slowly crumble,
Though none of this
Means much to Emily,
Playing on a filthy
Motel balcony.
Amongst the chaos and
Tumult, a refreshing
Ideology rears its head
Promising prosperity
For people of many
Persuasions, a shiny
Alternative, not the
Tired old stuff,
Assuring everyone that
Things will be okay and
Taken care of, unlike the
Mess the other guys have
Made, and insisting that
All the populace has to do
Is believe and unconditionally
Submit to the benevolent
Power of the free market.
It begins to
Come into focus.
The incessant quest
For acceptance.
The need to be
Part of the in group.
The endless judgments
And expectations.
The need to
Cater to others.
The sacrifice
Of self.
The urge to
Escape from it.
How that one brief
Moment has impacted
Everything, each
Subsequent occasion,
A constant conflict
Between what is and
What might have been,
Unfinished stories
Calling from another
Place. Staring into
The distance, another
Infinite day of
Wistful speculation,
A story rewritten but
Never completed.
He waited many minutes before
Clicking the send button.
She was both surprised and elated
When the message arrived.
They met in a small restaurant,
So many memories.
They bid each other a fond
Goodnight.
