An Outlet For Being

It is a rain filled morning. All through out sleeping it came down and now its mist is all over for the sour pleasure of the old men. In the coffee shop: “Whoever keeps tagging my bathroom better hope I don’t find out who you are…” Dirk’s. It’s a sad spot especially since the owl is gone, since the last hurricane. The place reminds me of the four demons sitting down and discussing their exploits over breakfast. “Hey kid, someone peed in my coffee…” It feels like everyone here is old and dejected. If you see it in this light you understand why a quiet hangs over. The music they’ve put on for two years has not come to anyone’s rescue. Frown for the camera. Overheard conversation. Dread. Shady character dead frame hide lie speak no thing of valor. Green shrub. Windshield swipe the flash. Delicate associations. You disgust yourself by the lies you tell yourself and go on doing so. Guilt pangs.

A wandering freak adds to the mix zigging in from the street talking to himself with a big overdrugged grin and making folks nervous, waving to the four Scotties, a mom and her pups. They are doted on, dressed for the chill and mist and worse on its way.

2012 gets the Hollywood treatment, meaning desperate people watch it from beginning to end and only feel more desperate. By the time all the popcorn is gone they’re slitting their wrists. “What should I do?” a woman writes. “My little dog is all I have in this world and I need to know when to put him to sleep.” This is a very real movie we’re in. You don’t need to, need to do that. The world does us in by it’s natural charm or by its self destruct. There is no human price tag or message you can put on it.

The appostrophy extends right off the K. See it next time you’re here.

In our bags we should carry apples, oranges, bananas, seaweed, and so on. Release the thought. What is the world, what is society coming to? Does the whole thing go away or build off another idea or… is there just a sudden crack in the sky and it’s raining blood and bile? Will the robots we build help us build better robots and we lift ourselves up by our bootstraps?

No turkey for me since I know you’ll ask. Why do you bother to ask? And no, no family to go to and be with and it’s okay this way.

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2 thoughts on “An Outlet For Being

  1. Something special about a rained filled morning with mist while inside a coffee shop, all filtered through the spirit, mind and memory of a poet pondering. Wishing you a good holiday, or at least a few full days to sit, write and view.

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