July 27, 2009
Notching the legs in another round-table discussion. Asking
favors from the ever-present wait staff...waiting their turn
for the tune to begin...for the inevitable musical-chair
changes -- when the big talkers who cover up their identity
with words and good looks get the ol' chair-from-under-them
routine. Falling hard on their backsides and taking up
positions of opposition. Gotta hurt.
Catching a glimpse of a better effort and taking risky looks
behind the curtain. Never a safe endeavor for the forward
minded individual. Contemplating all those avenues of
destruction, all paved so carefully and disguised so
ingeniously -- to the point where travelers never realize
there even on it, and by the time they do, it's far too
late -- which happens to be when the popular "might as
well enjoy the ride" consolations start kicking in.
Forming those stylized notions of a crippled identity.
Peeled layers, forgotten for the time being. Crystallized
emotions and postcard remembrances. Stuck between the
final versions of how we have come to be. Lost in shadow
and stolen contemplation. Grabbing those greeting cards,
serving their true purpose. Layering the pain in sweet
Are we all feeling a bit sick to our stomach?
And nobody is walking along this path tonight. They've
all taken shelter against the gathering storm. Inequity
disbursing its motions. Cracks in the sidewalk concealing
terrors beyond any imagining. Anytime now you will realize
that what was expected from you never had a chance of
Stacked decks building this house of cards, set to tumble
at the slightest reverberation -- the inevitable echo
that lies waiting in all our tomorrows (probably related
to that first scream, the one that started all this,
the call that beckoned a response, rushing toward you
through the years, picking up momentum, leaving its
mark, waiting around the corner). Don't bother plugging
your ears...not now.
It's all part of that long drive into the sleepy coastal
town. Rolling through the windswept scenery, grabbing
a bite at the outdoor restaurant and sitting on a
sandy park bench and listening to the ocean's memory.
And you finally make that brave stand, walking towards
the building on the horizon with tears in your eyes
(is it the wind or the sand or something else causing
the salty streams?)...preparing yourself for what might
be lying hidden behind the decaying facade.
~ ~ ~
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