Tragedy

Tragedy


My deep tragedy, endless repetition while the backdrop
busily transitions through metamorphoses. I have no interest
in the big picture. I am always adapting, adjusting to fit my
habits into changed circumstance.
Tonight I explore beyond my accustomed range. A disturbance
is upon me, a turbulent mood. Air, humid, dark, not oppressive.
It frees me to roam like some driven wind. I feel disquiet in
the people I pass. They have no thought of my presence. Their
unease emanates from their own disequilibrium. A world, this
small sample, on edge, not ready to fall.
Heightened urgency swells, crashes, waves of boldness and
fear. This is not part of me. This is a wider wind, a storm,
possibly cataclysmic. It is no concern of mine. I am merely
washed by storm. Yet, this general mood, this call to fight or fly,
does grab at me. I run, evasive action, enjoy the game. A night
that wants to go on forever, explosions, sediment from the sky,
dizzying challenge of disarray. I am not the only predatory cause
of death on these streets. Let them enjoy their sport. There is
plenty. Population never seems to pall here in urban jungleland.
What would my world have been like, how would I have lived,
had I ever been a normal child? Would terror have taken me,
engulfed me, even so?
Questions can be so comforting. Anything can be supposed as
simple what ifs. It is only an idle question, not threatening nor
demanding. No one expects an answer.
I am distancing, distancing, running. Far from my habit’s expected
haunts, I take refuge in an empty alley, and cry. There is too much
angry violence on the streets tonight, so I pretend it all a fantasy.
I pretend I am a frightened child hiding in this alley, waiting to be
found. There is a safe home, family, normality, I will soon reunite
with, even if I can’t remember the particulars. Obviously I have
been traumatized. My battered mind has yet to recover, to find
its secure place in an ongoing story.
The reality of hunger offends with intrusion. No familial table is
in the offing. The hunt must go on.
I catch a faint whiff of something familiar but unnamed. Without
hesitation, I let it go, know it is nothing I want. A man, dazed,
possibly drugged, enters my attention. He is clearly alone, clearly
out of place, easily led into private darkness.