Outrage kept at screeching pitch becomes
just another background drone. Enough practice
can habituate us to any substance, any shadow,
Drowsing through the days, energy on hold;
hiding, hyper alert, in the night, striking, aroused
to the kill, absolutely enthralled. Every moment
is itself, unique, irreproducible. Moments gathered,
sewing circles of gossips repeating their comedic roles,
sloppily, slatternly, as time rolls by.
Time has been escalating around me. Faster changes,
denser crowds, extremes in expressive array.
Cycles of human behavior seem more like tightening
spirals. Perhaps the accustomed order is cracking toward
disintegration as self-proclaimed prophets shout,
as advocates of revolution hope, as beaten curbside
Adjustments to population pressure, but that doesn’t
mean those adjustments won’t be harsh, or devastating
in large, small, unknown ways. I am apart; but I am
affected by new arrangements, amplified emotions.
My natural habitat is encroached upon, much like any
wild creatures’. It becomes more difficult to not be seen,
targeted, vilified; what is looked for regulated by fear,
What is seen is the target, not the potential friend or
complicated enriching story.
Not my story. Or maybe every story, no matter how
impoverished it may be to the teller. Maybe every story
has its natural audience, its complement of listeners
twisted by life’s experiences that leave trails so
beautifully fitting like custom locks to the tale’s key.
Kind gods would do that. Kind auxiliary gods who could
sneak in at night, bountifully play with the day gods’
I walk along my habitual river beach, enjoy rippling
deepness of water, earnest city lights beyond.
Light does not yet encroach on my private darkness
here, now, this elongated finite moment. Any day
the growing ranks of homeless, the endlessly grasping
developers, the flash alarm of the body politic, could
change my habit, opportunities.
Fortune favors the adaptable.
The moment favors the truly present, senses connected,
each scent a symphony, each sight aglow in layers
My habit is to wander. Yet, I am ever wary, ever worried
and cognizant. What I fear, guard against so intensely,
is not death or pain, but discovery by those who can’t
possibly understand or accept, and what that might mean.