Sunday, October 14, 2001

Like a periodical you feel that everything comes and goes.
The stories shift for the times
the classifieds change by the moment
but the tag lines, the headers, the margins and the hopes
are the same daily redundancies.
Everything tends to just stay there and float.

The ink of the text rubs off from the light bond paper,
onto your fingers while
rubbing it on your forehead,
not knowing what you have just done,
the business sections foretells a setting
of a morning without a sun.

When you finally get to current events,
the afternoon calls closely
what the mornings forget to whisper;
Reservations were made for dinner,
the host has written you on college ruled paper--
--the waiters are roving sillouttes
that nick and squeeze you like mothers.

All your love given away because of
false pretensions, all the stories
in the front page given but forgotten,
that tomorrow is nothing more than
trial and tribulations,
that the headline stories tell about grave disasters
and the greatest of sensations.

I begin to feel lost amongst the storied tales,
where the nation feels at odds with the discerning
amendments that make up love and freedom.
The current poll amongst Americans
that place them in the top 50 percent,
who generally believe
that everything they used to believe--they resent.
posted by HZA | 12:35 AM | email | archive