They handed him his
New lock and combination.
He walked down the long
Hallways searching for
His designated spot,
A lonely number in a
Sea of bodies
Oblivious to
His circumstance.
I’ve got mine.
You get yours.
I’ve got mine.
You get yours.
I made it on my own.
Survival of the fittest, man.
Why don’t you just do
What I do.
Be self-made, man.
Quit whining.
Self-reliance, man.
No handouts.
Do what I do.
Call your dad already.
He bloviates about the success of
His business, conveniently overlooking
The role of happenstance –
Right place, right time –
A product of pure chance –
No more effort expended than anyone else –
Pompously claiming prosperity is
The result of being
Extra smart, supernaturally savvy,
Gifted in some special way,
Unlike those he hallucinates
Don’t get off their posteriors and
Do something with the money they
Inherit from their families,
The arrogance of a windbag
Unappreciative of staggering fortune.
The programs they devour
Have so twisted their
Thinking through
Misdirection,
Misinformation,
Misguided manipulation,
That they are
No longer able to
Distinguish
Fact from fiction,
Make rational choices.
Charting an unsteady course
Home from a party where
He enjoyed twenty too many,
It struck him that he was in an
Unfamiliar house.
Stumbling through rooms,
Desperately trying not
To announce his presence or
Bother anyone,
Maddeningly unable to do
Anything but flounder
Helplessly as he careened
From point to point.
A sad young creature winding
Its way toward a place it
Doesn’t want to be.
Only one point of view
Is respectable,
The moment ripe for
Grotesquely inadequate and
Malformed perceptions to
Populate well-meaning minds
Reacting from a place of
Pain and fear
Never admitted.
Maintain the momentum,
Eradicate dissenting utterances,
Sweep them under the rug as
Bothersome, trifling dust.
A new day arrives brandishing
A glinting sword, the
Contracted face of
Judgment unmistakable,
Zeal palpable.
Unlimited possibilities,
Open to anything,
Embracing uncertainty,
Boundless excitement,
A planet charting
Its own course.
They look the other way
When one of their own
Goes after those they fear,
A revolting alliance of
Bigots defending a
Foul state of affairs,
Dismissive of people
Who have genuine grievances,
Eager agents of supremacy,
The putrid face of
Unbridled privilege.
I used to agonize about every
Little thing, no matter how
Minuscule, insignificant,
Unremarkable.
Now I save my energy for
Medium size debacles, which
Seem to visit
With similar frequency.
Perhaps one day
I’ll welcome a new visitor
Who offers me solace,
Long-awaited relief.
