In the middle of
All the noise,
The fake kisses and
Fabricated mirth,
He asks himself
What it’s all about,
This superficial chaos
Punctuated by
Occasional meaning
Mostly ignored.
Don’t worry
Your pretty little head,
I will choose
What’s best for you,
I will guide you
Down this difficult road,
I will make all
The decisions about
Your body,
I will stop
At nothing to
Maintain my
Cowardly control.
Told he should not
Feel anything,
That he needs to
Push it down until
He, supposedly,
Can barely remember,
Erase it with some
Type of substance or
Surrogate behavior,
Chaotic flashes of a
Past best left behind
But never far away,
No matter what
The diversion.
They all gravitate
Toward identical things,
Secure in their sameness,
Unable to understand
The wonderful diversity
Just beyond their perception,
Content to remain
Where they are.
The shanties spill over
The top of the hills
Until they meet
The gleaming luxury
High-rises housing
People who complain
About what an eyesore
It is to look out on
A bunch of poor people.
She’s noticed the constantly
Shrinking soap bar lately,
Becoming smaller and smaller,
Dissolving more quickly,
Carefully shaped to
Break in half sooner,
Infused with less fragrance.
For as long as she can
Remember, bars of soap
Were a certain size but,
At some point, it became
Acceptable for companies
To sell whatever they want,
Knowing they have a
Captive audience with
No other real options.
It all happened so fast,
Nobody was ready for it,
As evidenced by their
Random utterings,
Contemplations normally
Left for quieter moments
When others aren’t around.
A woman walks through
The room,
Trying to calm people down,
But they don’t listen,
Uncertainty being what it is.
It can’t just be easy,
I guess,
Everything appears to have
The distinct tendency to
Become annoyingly complicated
Instead of pleasantly simple,
Developing into ever more
Complex convolutions of
Contortions engendering
Unnecessary grief and
Consternation rather than
Peace and calm,
A straightforward task
No longer,
Realization elusive.
Carrying some trash bags
Out to the dumpster behind
The fast food restaurant,
She breathes the
Exhaust-infused air
And tries to avoid thinking
About the hundreds of
Meaningless chores
She’ll do during her shift
Before she goes to
Her other job
So her family can
Barely make ends meet.
On someone’s radio
At the drive-through,
A man talks about how it’s
Just an entry-level job.
