How to describe
How dirty I feel
When I’m forced to
Have any kind of
Contact with you.
How to let you know
That the mere thought
Of you repulses me
And racks me with
Overwhelming sadness.
How to get you
Out of my life,
Away from me,
So I don’t have to
Deal with this.
How to keep wishing
That you would
See what’s going on
Instead of
Stepping on me.
To capitulate would mean
Nothing short of annihilation,
Calling into question his
Virility and fortitude,
His ability to be in control
Of everything, prancing
Bravado, a huffing, puffing
Maelstrom of toxic ego and
Rampant insecurity
Unable to cede anything
For any reason.
An acquaintance from
Many years ago,
Some professional context,
Pleasantries exchanged
In the civil respectful tone
Of imposed interaction,
Superficial conversation of
No particular consequence,
A lingering unease.
Making the eventual mistake of
Connecting on social media,
To be cordial,
Dismayed, saddened, at seeing
How much she fears and hates
People who aren’t like her,
A distant contact becomes
Even more removed.
Avarice clouds
Judgment.
The innocent
Fall by the wayside.
A cloud of mendacity.
Piles of refuse and debris.
The remains of
Many before who
Succumbed to the whims of
Meager, broken minds.
Faced with
Impossible
Choices,
They make
One that
They hope
Will be the
Least painful.
Sometimes there
Isn’t an easy answer,
But there is
An opportunity to
Hopefully draw upon
An inner sense
Of decency and
Compassion.
Picking up his
Fragile body from
The side of the road
Because nobody else will.
Wishing everyone had
Someone to recognize
His incalculable value,
How much he matters.
So afraid of the churning
Rabble of miscreant panhandlers
Maliciously trying to get
Their grubby hands
On his wealth,
He went to great pains
Minimizing and demonizing,
A self-appointed,
Scepter-shaking saint,
Piously declaring
Them trash.
A mundane street
Racked with fear.
Unfulfilled dreams
Hastily banished.
Superficial conversations
About nothing important.
Minimizing risk,
Averse to change.
Laughter suppressed,
Letting life happen to them.
They stand around,
Chests puffed out like
So many parading turkeys,
Trying to best each other
With stories of dubious
Exploits and successes.
The same anecdotes bandied
About with little variation
From year to year,
Reliving past glories
That never existed
In the first place.
Gathering after gathering,
No change or growth
Infiltrates their ritual,
Just obstinate sameness.
She peruses a beloved album
Of fading photographs and
Remembers the days when she
Used to walk to school with
Her brother and sister.
There was never any question
Whether her teachers would
Be there, her desk, books,
Exhilarating days spent
Learning, laughing, growing.
She goes for a stroll,
Passing the empty shell of
What used to be her school,
Left to decay instead of
Welcoming eager children.