Surveying the rows of houses,
I am struck by their drab
Sameness, a kind of uniform
Dilapidation rendered stark
By a tepid sun. Inside,
Dreams die by the thousands.
Gregarious and confident
On the outside, trembling
And tentative on the inside.
The sense that he’s never
Really good enough, no matter
How blustery his exterior.
No sense of his utter inability
To connect with anyone on a
Deeper level, as a human being.
Each encounter becomes another
Opportunity to use someone else
To bolster waning self-esteem.
It was a remark
That made everyone
Pause for a moment and
Perform a reluctant
Self-inventory before
Deciding what to do next.
No one spoke up,
This being a civilized
Place inhabited by
Fearful creatures who
Give wide berth to
The loudest voice and
Keep their objections,
If they had any,
To themselves, allowing
The blowhard to spread
His disease everywhere.
Though these could be
Moments of reflection,
They instead become
Frantic lurches from
One place to another
Desperately trying to
Make the discomfort
Go away and replace it
With who knows what,
Because nobody really
Acknowledges anything
Or is willing talk about
What’s really going on
And why it’s happening.
Modest house on
Tree-lined street,
Unassuming hodgepodge,
Practical apartments,
Utilitarian dwellings,
Tidy to a point.
Bike ride up arduous hills,
Humid air invigorating
Youthful lungs,
Blue sky contentment.
Knock on door,
Heartily welcomed.
The harrowing
Uncertainty begins,
More of a screaming,
Piercing pain that won’t
Go away no matter how
Many aspirins one takes.
Trying to ignore it,
Hoping it will go away,
Pretending it’s not going to happen
When it inevitably will,
A return to different times,
Shocking dissimilarity.
Unreachable minds,
Roiling with contempt and
Inordinate callousness.
They will never
Dig deep enough
To tell us why.
Sitting around
Talking about nothing
In particular,
They notice that
They’re physically
Stronger than them;
That they can impose
Their will through
Force rather than
Negotiation or
Compromise.
They get to work
Creating the edifices
Of submission and
Control; shameless
Institutions designed
To maintain the
Imbalance of power.
She’s been unemployed
For two years
Since being laid off
From her long-time job.
On the news,
They keep crowing
About how much better
Things are.
She walks in the door
Of a temp agency
Where she’s greeted
Politely.
A young woman
Asks her to have a seat
At a long table and
Fill out an application.
When she’s done,
She’s told to wait for an
Additional screening
By another staff member.
She goes into a small
Room to take a variety
Of tests to determine
What she can do.
She’s told to call
Early each morning
To check for any jobs
That may be available.
Wake before the waning hours
When circumstance no longer humors a
Dream postponed, wish delayed,
Experience avoided somnambulantly.
Like endless afternoons
Flirting with maybes and sometimes.
Occasion just missed.
